A Streetcar Named Eventually
by nelliesbones
Summary: Precious "moments that weren't" on Booth's and Brennan's journey to eventually... or were they? Complete for now, but I will add some more chapters here and there. Warmhearted, spoilerfree and M for some chapters. Additional chapter up.
1. First Year: The Truth in the Tequila

_Well, don't expect something epic because this will be nothing but fluff. Usually I don't post my stories before they are complete, but I had this idea, and I needed to go with it. Let's take a look a one moment every year and fill in the blanks. I promise you, there will come more and I strongly believe in happy endings. Sorry for my lack of beta, I hope it is enjoyable nevertheless. _

A Streetcar Named Eventually

First Year: The Truth in the Tequila

"_I don't know. I just feel like, um, this is goin' somewhere."_

The sound of raindrops against the windows of the cab was almost like a knocking. Panting heavily, Dr. Temperance Brennan – world-renowned forensic anthropologist – rested her overheated head against the cool glass while her mind tried to process what just had happened.

This man!

He had kissed her, or she had kissed him, but that wasn't what irritated her. Kissing was a common overture to sexual contact, and sexual contact followed by release was all too human and perfectly normal – healthy even if practiced with certain considerateness and under acceptable hygienic conditions.

No, Temperance Brennan was fine with sexual contact.

What bothered her was merely the opposite, the fact that the steamy kiss she had just shared with this cocky FBI agent had _not_ led to something more. She had backed out like a coward, and that was a character trait that Brennan was not familiar with.

It was almost as if he had challenged her with the confession of his gambling problem, and she had kept her head down.

Why had he pursued the need to make more of it than it was?

The kiss had been pretty exciting, even electrifying, and when she had felt the tip of his tongue against her own, his male flavor mingled with traces of Tequila, a spark of heat had been ignited deep in her belly, followed by an almost painful tightening in her breasts. He would have been a very equal and satisfying sexual partner, somehow she was sure of this – and not only because of his appealing symmetrical feature or his broad shoulders. No, there was more to this man, something she couldn't quite name, but that intrigued her.

He was like one of her bone puzzles, and she felt the sudden desire to dissect him, to figure him out. Metaphorically speaking, of course, not even she was that literal.

Brennan sighed in frustration, as her sex throbbed mercilessly in abandonment. Well, thanks to her own unexpected weakness there wouldn't be sexual release tonight, at least not with the man she desired. For a moment she pondered to make a call, there were several man who would be pleased to do her that special favor, but somehow she wasn't in the mood for a different touch, another mouth moving over her own.

What was it that made Seeley Booth so interesting to her?

Unlike most of the men she met, he hadn't been intimidated by neither her intelligence nor her beauty. Brennan knew that she was an attractive woman, and Agent Booth didn't seem to be oblivious to that fact, considering his bold flirting. And regarding the other parameter... he had even been able to teach her a few things she hadn't known so far. She had surprised him with her findings, but instantly he had regained his composure, had raised the bar.

He was challenging.

Besides, he seemed to be pretty successful and outstanding in his own field of expertise.

Maybe she had done it wrong, maybe she should have decided right at the beginning if she wanted him to be a potential lover or a potential coworker. Usually, she had no problem to compartmentalize those things; her romantic affair with her former professor was proof enough.

Why was it that this clear line started to blur faced with Seeley Booth? What was his secret?

It was still raining furry animals – cats and rabbits? – when the cab stopped in front of her apartment building, and Brennan ran towards the entrance. It didn't help, though, and within seconds she was soaked. Her light coat clung uncomfortably to her upper body, and as soon as she was inside, she stripped down, leaving behind a trail of wet clothes on her way to the bathroom.

The air conditioner was working, and when she stood naked in front of her big bathroom mirror, goosebumps were covering her damp skin, straightening up the feathery hair on her forearm, her antibrachium. The peaks of her full breasts were taut, braving the chilly air without shame.

Her previous arousal had given her hips a certain heaviness, her cheeks a distinct flush, and Brennan studied herself thoroughly, finally shrugging her shoulders.

His loss.

Stepping under the shower, she loosened her ponytail and turned the water as hot as bearable. While the steamy droplets hit her body, slowly warming her to the insides, her mind traveled back in time.

Much to her surprise she had enjoyed working with fresh bones, solving a recent crime. Of course she had been more than capable of doing so, and working as an FBI associate had been an interesting change from her daily routine. Angela had proven to be pretty helpful – maybe the funky artist could be a real asset to her team. Having another woman around could be nice, Brennan mused.

Methodically as always, she lathered her body with a scented soap bar before turning her attention to her long, mahogany-colored hair.

'Bones.'

What an annoying nickname. If she decided to continue her partnership with this agent, he would have to drop that. A little voice inside of her remarked that this was easier said than done, and one more time Brennan had to wonder. She wasn't used to voices inside of her head, and most of all she wasn't familiar with so-called gut feelings.

Feelings were other people's stuff – hers were bones and facts.

As soon as the remaining lather had rinsed down the drain, Brennan turned off the shower and grabbed a soft terrycloth towel to wrap it around her body. She was out and out warm now, and when she dried herself, she rubbed a little harder than usually until her skin was tingling.

'Bones.'

No, that was really unacceptable. She was a human being, a whole woman, and even though she consisted of 206 bones, she refused to be reduced to a single one of it.

When she was comfortably dry, her hair back in a high ponytail, she slipped into a huge cozy nightgown and padded into her bedroom. The earlier dizziness of the Tequila had subsided, but to work against potential dehydration, she placed a bottle of water on her nightstand before she slid under the satiny covers.

Lolling in her bed, Brennan savored the silence of her apartment. She loved her job, loved science, but she was woman enough to enjoy the fringe benefits of her success as well. At the age of twenty-nine, Brennan was independent and wealthy enough to allow herself the luxury of a spacy home and expensive sheets, and she didn't feel bad about it. After all, it hadn't always been like this, and she had worked hard for it.

Closing her eyes, she tried to put her brain in neutral, to surrender herself to sleep, but with her brain quiet, something else inside of her began to speak, and suddenly the feeling of that kiss in the rain came back with full force.

Soft lips. Strong arms. Warm mouth. Intoxicating scent.

Groaning in disapproval, the woman rolled around in her bed until she rested on her stomach. This had been a mistake, though, because now a pillow was lying underneath her, adding tempting pressure to her midsection, right there where her body was already vibrating.

With a sigh of defeat, she finally gave in – after all, this was perfectly normal as well, and she had no intention to torture herself.

Deft fingers made their way under the wide gown, and her legs widened a few inches. The tip of her finger slid inside easily, and Brennan gasped as she found out how wet she was. It was impossible to feel such a strong physical response after _one_ kiss, but evidence betrayed her logic. Her body was aching, and even though she was an expert in pleasuring herself, this what not what she truly craved for tonight, and she knew it.

When the waves finally started to crash, when the tension inside of her gathered in one spot right before it exploded, one face was on her mind, and she came around her own fingers with smirking brown eyes watching her. Oddly enough, this picture turned her on even more.

Panting heavily, she waited for the final tinglings to subside and for satiation to make her sleepy, but together with the expected feeling came an uninvited one, and it reminded somehow of cheating.

And with his face on her mind, she fell asleep.

-BONES-

Seeley Booth rubbed his aching head with his flat palm, as the cab disappeared in the rain. This had not ended as expected, whatever his expectation had been. Casting the bar behind him a longing glance, he finally turned in the opposite direction to walk home. He had already more than enough alcohol in his system, and the unpleasant feeling that he had gambled enough for one night gnawed at his insides.

Who was this woman?

Booth was used to working solo, he was one of the FBI cowboys. No need for a partner to tag along. However, he had to admit that he had enjoyed the company of the smart scientist lady. She was... something else. One of a kind.

Beautiful, beyond a doubt, but that kind of beauty that could easily burn and swallow you if you get too close to it.

Hell, she could kiss. For someone so clever she knew perfectly well to make use of her womanly traits. And she smelled like heaven.

Shaking his head, the agent tried to clear his foggy mind somehow. He had fired her, she had fled him, and chances were that he would never see her again.

He didn't know why he had named her 'Bones', she didn't look like bones at all. Anyway, if the way she had kissed him was any indicator, 'Temperance' didn't fit either.

Why did he think about her name at all?

She wasn't even his type, he was a gentleman who preferred blondes. She was way too cool, too clever, too unpredictable, too feisty. But her eyes... those big baby blues... they had that spark. And when she smiled, something in the room around her lit up.

Undoubtedly she had been an asset to this investigation. Her team had provided him with highly valuable information. Booth had no idea how they could have figured out that much by... _squinting_ at the remains, but they had drawn profound conclusions. Plus, the way she had punched that arrogant ass of a judge? A field day. She had fire.

Suddenly he wished very much that she wouldn't have taken that damned cab. At least not alone. He had no clue what to do with a woman like Temperance Brennan after the passion would have cooled down, but he had some pretty good ideas for the time in between.

Not to dampen his mood, Booth started to whistle, and when he reached the liquor store on the first floor of his building, he purchased a sixpack to wind down.

It had only been a kiss. Granted, a kiss that could have been going somewhere, but apparently they hadn't been on the same page. Would he see her again? Get a chance to become really acquainted with her? Did she have a lot of friends? Was she funny in private?

So many questions, and so far he only knew one thing: That she had tasted like the rain itself.

Plopping on his couch, Booth opened the first beer and took a healthy gulp. For a split second he had been able to feel the soft curve of her breasts pressed against his chest. Swallowing hard, he shifted on the couch in an attempt to calm his stirring arousal.

Her lips had been so smooth and pink, the line of her jaw so elegant when she had tilted her head to look up at him.

He groaned. That did so not help. Yes, she was beautiful and sexy, but she was not available, so fantasizing about her was inappropriate. She wasn't November girl or something like that, she was a real woman, one that could kick his ass. One that deserved his respect because she was... well... she was something.

Usually Booth was very adept in reading people, but this anthropologist was hard to figure out. She seemed to be an easy-going person with her beaming smile, the bobbing ponytail and her cute nose, but something told him that there were unforeseen dark depths inside of her. Underneath her perfect curvy body... and his arousal was back with vigor.

'No way,' he decided, he would not masturbate with Temperance Brennan on his mind.

Emptying his bottle, Booth decided against killing the whole sixpack and opted for a shower instead. As cold as possible.

To be continued...

_Intrigued?_


	2. Second Year: The Healing Power in the

The Second Year: The Healing Power in the Pudding

"_How did you get out of the hospital?"_

The flickering images on the TV screen bathed the hospital room in annoying blue light, but Booth didn't really care. He had stopped watching half an hour ago, and he had just stopped pretending to watch because next to his bed Temperance Brennan had fallen asleep. Being kidnapped and almost killed was too much for one day, even for her.

She had stayed.

Had murmured something about a headache, but in her crystal clear eyes he had found the truth. She had wanted to stay. Booth didn't know if her motivation had been more than mere gratitude, but it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that she was here. Safe and sound.

Tonight he had almost lost her, but only a patch on her forehead reminded of it – this and the picture that would be burned into his retina for the rest of his life. Her teary eyes wide open in shock, her mouth gagged, her wrists bound, her body – usually so graceful – dangling way too fragile on a hook.

A hook!

That bastard had dared to tie his wonderful partner to a hook.

And the worst thing was: Booth himself had entrusted him with her. If he hadn't found her in time... he wouldn't have been able to forgive himself that one.

Since their partnership had started a few months ago, Booth had learned to trust her, to rely on her. It wasn't always easy with her, but it was worth it because together they were better than he had ever been alone. Stronger. Smarter. Faster.

The kiss in the rain and the possibilities that had marked their beginning were almost forgotten, buried deep in a distant corner of their memories, and neither of them had mentioned it ever since. It was safer this way, easier. Fighting back the electricity that cracked in the air between them every once in a while was hard enough.

Booth looked at her sleeping face unguardedly. She had shifted in slumber, and right now her head was resting on her fist next to him on the bed, so close that her soft tresses tickled his skin. Earlier tonight her shimmering hair had cascaded onto her shoulder blades freely; now it was framing her angelic face like a curtain of silk.

The black dress she wore looked expensive, and the alabaster tone of her skin was a touching contrast to the dark shade.

Usually he was pretty successful in fighting back the attraction, but the vulnerability of the day had cracked open his shell. He couldn't forget the tears pooling in her big blue eyes, the way she had clung to his body in utter despair.

It was the first time that he had held her after the night that may not be named, but today it had been different because their bond was none of sexual temptation but one of respect and – yes – friendship.

He hadn't wanted to kiss her breathless; his desire had been to hold her, to protect her.

Today he had saved her, but in doing so he had saved himself as well.

A soft curl had fallen into her face, and every time Brennan exhaled, it fluttered like a feather in the wind. If he had been able to move his left arm, he would have brushed it away tenderly, but with his cast that chivalry gesture wasn't an option. 'Maybe it is for the best,' he mused, touching her could be dangerous tonight.

With a sigh Booth shifted in an attempt to find a comfortable position, and it didn't take long until the events of the day took a toll on him – or maybe it was the effect of the painkillers, but suddenly his eyelids were very, very heavy, and accompanied by her even breaths, he fell asleep.

-BONES-

Brennan awoke with a jolt, blinking against the unfamiliar surroundings. The confusion didn't linger, though, and after a few seconds everything came back with a rush, and she gasped. The warehouse, the dogs, the fear. Booth.

He had rescued her.

Lifting her head, Brennan found his sleeping face very close to her own. He looked battered and bruised, but to her he was nothing but a hero. Tonight she had learned about the healed fractures in his feet, and the images her mind had created might be worse than the truth.

Seeley Booth was a strong man. His years in the army had broken him as little as his gambling problem – it seemed as if all the bad things he had suffered in his life had only made him more honest. More the man he was.

As ridiculous as it might sound, she was glad that he had arrested her on the airport. She didn't know if she had ever found the courage or the will to talk to him again. He had annoyed her beyond belief, but that was only part of it. If she was honest with herself, she had ignored his calls because he had simply irritated her too much. In bad _and_ in good ways.

And now she was his partner, and somehow her perspective had changed. She had even given him her parents' file. Had revealed her big secret. She had been very insecure about sharing her past with him, but he had only given her a reassuring smile. Well, not only.

_I'm proud you asked, Temperance. _

Even now she felt a shiver, as she recalled his words. Maybe it was the rare sound of her first name spoken in his low voice or the fact that he had been proud, but somehow he had made her bigger with his remark.

She wanted him to be proud of her.

That was new as well, usually she didn't care what people thought of her, but... Booth wasn't "people". He was her partner. Maybe even her friend.

With this man she had been walking on foreign ground right from the beginning, and it still scared her sometimes, but Brennan didn't want to give it up anymore. Him.

A low growl interrupted her thoughts. Booth was tossing around, a slight sheen of sweat covered his convulsed brow. A nightmare?

Unsure what to do, Brennan bent over his agonized frame.

"Booth?"

Her voice didn't startle him at all, and so she placed a tentative hand on his cheek.

"Booth... wake up."

A muffled cry was her answer, and then his eyes snapped open, and his hand flew to hers on his face, clutching it.

Shocked brown orbs bore into equally wide blue ones, as he tried to control his ragged breath.

"Bones... Temperance..."

"It's okay, Booth, you had a nightmare."

'Genius, he had probably realized that by himself.'

Both of them noticed at the same moment that he was still squeezing her hand, and short of a reason to maintain the contact, he loosened his vice-like grip on her. Sensing his reluctance, she let it on its place on his cheek one more moment, stroking the stubbly skin in a gentle and soothing caress. 'A partner thing, not more,' she reassured herself.

"You want to tell me about it?" she finally asked hesitantly.

He tried to shrug, but soon his face was a grimace of pain, as his injuries screamed in protest.

"It was nothing."

"Oh. Okay."

Her shoulders slumped at his dismissal, and one more time her vulnerability crushed his unguarded heart. Taking a deep breath, Booth searched for the right words.

"You in the warehouse. The hook. That bastard. And... the old _stuff_ as well. The perfect ingredients for a nightmare. I told you to go with him, Bones."

"Booth... it's not your fault. Thanks to you I didn't end up being dog food."

"Still, I should have known that something wasn't right. I endangered you."

"You did not. It's not your responsibility to protect me," she tried to rationalize.

"It _is_, Bones," he whispered sharply, "you are my partner, my... friend, and I care about you."

"This is our job endangering me, not you. Regardless of what you might think, I didn't stumble into this partnership with blind eyes. It was my choice to work with you again. Besides, he shouldn't have been able to overpower me that easily, I'm very adept in martial arts. He surprised me."

"You forgive me then?" he had to ask, and she suppressed a snort as she registered the earnest expression on his face, the pleading look in his deep eyes. Something inside of her softened.

"There is nothing to forgive, Booth. You saved me, that's the way I look at it."

She gave him a weak smile, and finally he accepted it.

"Can I do something to express my infinite gratitude? I could feed you a pudding or some more sedatives."

He chuckled.

"Nah, I'm fine. I should probably try to go back to sleep."

She nodded.

"Okay. I suppose I'm leaving, then."

"You have to?"

She stilled for a moment, a puzzled look on her face. Truth be told, she didn't want to leave that badly, but her arms hurt from their unwilling stretching exercise earlier that day, and the chair wasn't that comfortable after all.

"Well, not necessarily, but I'm pretty tired as well..."

He looked at her silently for a few heartbeats, and suddenly she wasn't able to read his eyes at all.

"You're right, you shouldn't be forced to sleep on that chair. Maybe you could... come back tomorrow? Do the feeding thing?"

A smile split her exhausted face, and for a moment it dazzled him.

"Of course. After all, you're my partner, and I have to take care of you, right?"

"Damn right, Bones. See you tomorrow."

She rose from her chair with a last smile, but before she stepped out of his room, she turned around one more time, waving her hand in an adorable gesture.

"Goodnight, Booth, and don't dream."

He smiled wistfully, but nodded.

"The same goes for you. Sleep tight."

Then she was gone, and as soon as the clacking of her heels wasn't audible anymore, Booth switched off the TV and closed his eyes in the dark room.

Going back to sleep was significantly harder without her soft breaths next to him.

To be continued...


	3. Third Year: The Heat in Vegas

The Third Year: The Heat in Vegas

"_We're more 'engaged to be engaged'."_

Booth could still taste the blood in his mouth. Metallic and painful. It reminded him of bygone days and brought back memories he had fought hard to forget. Today there was something else in the taste, though, and he couldn't even put it down to the rush of victory.

Today the adrenaline hadn't galloped away with his reason because there was something that had grounded him, something that prevented him from hitting the casino after they had handed over Joe to the local cops.

Right now this "something" wore nine-inch-heels and a crimson red dress that revealed more of her curvy body that it covered. Temperance Brennan looked sinfully good, even though he had liked the black dress even better. The red garment was obviously a disguise, but the black one... he could picture her wearing something like that on a date. It had been somehow classic. Just like her.

When they reached their hotel with the two adjoining rooms, Booth went straight to the bar and poured himself a glass of strong Bourbon, the painkiller of a real man.

With a sigh of relief Brennan slipped out of her shoes, and he had to drop his head a few inches to meet her eyes. 'What a trick,' he thought, as he swallowed the liquor, 'going from sexy as hell to kind of cute with one simple movement.'

Lowering herself to the bed, Brennan crossed her legs and rubbed her feet.

"I'm truly glad that this is not my everyday outfit, those heels are pretty challenging. I think I've gained some respect for this kind of women in the last days," she stated.

Booth threw himself next to her in one swift move but regretted the bold jump immediately, as his ribcage protested vehemently.

"Ouch."

She turned to him with a mixture of compassion and disapproval on her face.

"We should have gone to the hospital like I suggested."

"Nah, Bones, I can take it, I'm a man."

Furrowing her brow, Brennan shook her head.

"Being a man doesn't make your bones more stable or something like that. It's ridiculous to think that not treating injuries is manly. Besides, I don't know if I can stand your whining all night long."

"I am _not_ whining. I merely gasped because the pain surprised me for a moment."

"You have been beaten up by a man that looked more like a machine than an actual human being."

"Objection. The machine man has been beaten up by me."

"Yes, thanks to me, Booth."

He silenced for a moment and shrugged. She was right, and fair was fair.

"You're right, Bones. So you've knocked out the beast."

"I don't know what that means, Booth..."

He chuckled.

"It means we are a pretty good team."

"Oh, we are. And I have to say that Tony and Roxy are a very exciting couple."

"Yeah, we are hot."

Avoiding his eyes, she stated,

"I have to say that your torso looks quite impressive in nothing but an undershirt."

Leaning closer to her, he whispered right into her ear, "'Hot,' Bones, the word you're looking for is 'hot'."

Brennan had to suppress an intuitive shiver at the caress of his warm breath on her auricle, but he noticed it and smirked.

"And I have to say that you are even hotter, _Roxy_. Smoking hot."

"I'm just wearing the appropriate clothes for our undercover operation."

"Yeah, but there is a difference between wearing and wearing."

"That doesn't make any sense," she answered and rolled her eyes.

Determined to end this strange conversation, she lifted herself from the bed and tried to drag him with her.

"What's up? Where are we going?"

"To the bathroom. You didn't want to go to the hospital? Fine, but I'll check your wounds. Grab the first aid kit, _Tony_."

He cursed with pressed teeth but followed her nonetheless. His bathroom was tiny, just a shower, a toilet and a sink, and Brennan gestured towards the closed toilet lid.

"Sit down."

"On the toilet?"

"It's closed, and you have pants on, so what's the problem?"

"Well, it's weird."

"Don't be ridiculous, Booth, and sit down. Now."

Her voice was strict, and Booth was surprised by a rush of desire rolling through his body. Swallowing hard, he took a seat and regarded his partner with careful eyes. She was bent over the sink right now, filling a bowl with water, and the red dress emphasized the curve of her ass quite nicely. He let his gaze slid down her legs to her bare feet and was almost overwhelmed by a strange mixture of erotic and domestic feelings.

When she turned around, Brennan was surprised to find him staring at her feet. Quizzically, she looked down at herself. Sure, given her momentary attire she could understand his stare, but... her feet? She wiggled her toes, and the movement tore him out of his musings.

His gaze flew up, and she found a strange combination of... _things_ on his face that she couldn't quite name.

"Pull off your shirt."

"My... why?"

His voice was uncharacteristically high, and she arched her eyebrows in surprise.

"Because I don't have X-ray vision," she stated dryly.

"Yes, sure. No X-ray vision," he mumbled, mentally kicking himself. 'Get a grip, Seeley, this is your partner.'

Carefully, not to add pressure to the aching parts of his upper body, Booth discarded the shirt. When he looked at her again, he caught her staring at his chest with an expression that wasn't clinical at all.

"How does it look?" he asked with a smirk, and she blushed adorably. 'Busted.'

"Not that bad," she finally managed to say, and with the bowl and a washcloth in her hands, she took a step in his direction. And another one. He opened his legs, and accepting the offer, she stepped right into his personal space.

Brennan gestured for him to hold the bowl, and when she dipped the cloth in the soapy water, his eyes were focussed on her slender hands. Booth wasn't used to the sight of his partner with polished fingernails, but tonight they were as red as her dress, and when she wrung out the wet cloth, the action was more erotic than it should have been.

Again, he had to swallow against the lump in his throat, and much to his embarrassment, he felt pressure in his pants. Holding the bowl in a way that it should block her view, Booth could only hope and pray to survive the night.

Oblivious to his agony, Brennan ran the damp washcloth over his bronze skin. So firm, but smooth at the same time. The scent of blood and sweat was in the air, and one more time that night she was overwhelmed by something that she hadn't expected at all.

Arousal.

Arousal so pure that it made her week in her knees, so strong that she felt a sudden dampness in her panties. Earlier that night, when he had hit the final blow and it seemed as if the big man was falling down in slow-motion, she had regarded Booth with desire-clouded eyes and slightly parted lips. Anthropologically speaking, her body had recognized the alpha male and signalized its willingness to couple. Rationally speaking, coupling wasn't an option because he was her partner, her friend and not a hot-blooded boxer.

Breathing deeply, Brennan tried to control her body's reaction and resumed her task. The water in the bowl was rosy with blood now – his and the other man's – and Brennan made a mental note to run an HIV test on him as soon as they were back in DC. There was probably no need to worry, and she didn't mention it to him, but better be safe than sorry.

As soon as he was cleaned to her satisfaction, she dropped the washcloth into the bowl and ran her deft fingers over his skin, poking here, prodding there.

Booth recognized a medical examination when he saw one, but still, with her bent over him like that he was helpless against the images his mind created. She seemed to have forgotten her low cleavage, and right now he had a pretty nice view.

It would be so easy... so easy to touch her breast, roll his thumb over her nipple. To lift her leg over his shoulder and bury his face between her thighs. To spread her, taste her, lick her. Dive his tongue into her hot, wet body until she would scream his name. To bent her over the sink, raise her dress, lower her panties – a thong, maybe a thong? – and take her from behind. Hard and deep and thoroughly. He would be able to see her face in the mirror, her sinfully red lips, her dark shadowed eyes, but underneath the make-up it would be still her. He wouldn't fuck Roxy, he would still make love to Temperance. Then he would take her to bed, and the image of her curled around him like a satiated kitten turned him on just as much as his previous fantasies.

He exhaled a deep breath to calm himself.

"Put down the bowl," she suddenly commanded.

"No! Why?"

He clutched the bowl – his lifeline – in utter desperation, and she regarded him inquiringly.

"Because I have to examine your ribs, and the bowl is in the way. Put it down, please."

Running out of reasons to hold on to the damned thing, he put it down and sent a quick prayer heavenwards.

As soon as he had fulfilled the task, Brennan could see the reason for his reluctance – a very prominent reason – and a soft gasp left her lips. He was aroused as well. Because of her?

Lifting his head tentatively, he searched for her gaze and found her looking at his midsection with hungry eyes. Inhaling a shaking breath, Booth could suddenly smell something in the air between them, something rich, something female, something primeval. It was her, he realized with overwhelming clarity, it was her body's reaction to his proximity, to his desire, and it seemed as if hers matched his own.

"Bones..."

Her name left his mouth on a whisper, and her eyes flew to his face. A rosy flush covered her cheeks, and her chest was heaving as she looked at him with intensity that stole his breath. He found dancing sparkles in her irises and longing so pure that it took all his willpower not to grab her and make his former fantasies come true.

Lifting his trembling hand to her face, he cupped her cheek with infinite tenderness, and for a moment she leaned into his touch. Her skin was hot and soft, so soft.

Slowly, his hand left her face, slid down her body, and for a bold second he grazed the underside of her full breast with his thumb.

Then he dropped his arm, and immediately she missed his touch, longed for more.

Casting his ribcage a quick look, she decided that it was highly unlikely that there were any fractures, and so she stepped back, almost fleeing from him, from this.

"You are okay. I," she hesitated," ahem... I... See you tomorrow, Booth. Goodnight."

She had almost made it out of the room, when his voice stopped her.

"_Bones_?"

Turning around, she was captured by his dark coal eyes one more time.

"It's fine. _We_ are fine... Sweet dreams."

His words calmed her somehow, and she nodded, leaving him alone with boiling blood and an aching chest.

-BONES-

She decided to keep the dress.

Not the red one, that silky piece of sin was somehow too much. No, she kept the black one because he had told _her_ and not Roxy that she was hot, and because there had been this look in his eyes when she had stepped out of the bathroom.

A look that had spoken even louder than his voice.

After a year and a half of working with him, their relationship was pretty stable, but every once in a while... every once in a while there was that spark which reminded her that he was handsome, and that she was beautiful. Melancholy that mourned the missed moments, wasted possibilities, telling her that someplace deep down, Booth was more than only her partner, more than even a friend.

_Your beautiful... whatever she is._

Brennan remembered that line with a smile.

Yes, whatever she was... whatever they were.

To be continued...


	4. Fourth Year: The Death that Wasn't

_This one is a bit angsty._

The Fourth Year: The Death that Wasn't

"_I'm right here. Come on, you can do this. You're gonna be fine. You'll make this. Come on!"_

Seeley Booth was dead. As dead as man can be.

As dead as any lost soul in limbo.

His strong, solid body, his warm skin, his contagious charming smile, his big caring heart – it had stopped to exist. Just a useless frame, and within no time the flesh would rot away, revealing the bones underneath. Healed limbs that told stories about pain and suffering; lost singular phalanges that didn't know the wholeness of his comforting warm hand on her back anymore. Empty cranial orbits without reassuring brown eyes to shine at her. A skull – or a ribcage, it depends on the way you look at it – that had once contained and protected everything which had made this one man so very special.

To her.

Lips that knew to kiss so well would be gone, followed by flesh she'd never gotten to know – despite the fact that she had known him and his body by heart. She could name every fracture in his feet, every pain-causing vertebra in his spine, every tooth in his jaw. She could tell about being in his strong arms, pressed to his comforting chest, and about his unique scent.

She couldn't tell about making love to him, feeling his body underneath her, inside of her. Now she would never have the chance to tell.

Seeley Booth was dead.

This had been her mantra for the last few days, ever since the surgeon in the hospital had approached her with _that_ look in his eyes she knew so well. It was the look Booth had given every family they had to tell about the death of one of their beloved ones. The look that marked the end of a life.

She had heard cries, had felt arms wrapped around her, but it couldn't reach her. Nothing could reach her anymore. Seeley Booth was dead, and gone was the only person in this world she hadn't expected to leave her.

Three times she went to sleep with a hole in her heart; three times she awoke in sweet ignorance before it all came back with ache too grave for one lonely woman. Truth be told, she wasn't alone, the others guarded her with grim determination, but she was lonely. And would be forever now. She couldn't work, couldn't be surrounded by death and bones now that he was part of that world. She couldn't eat. Even every breath seemed to be evidence that she was alive, and he wasn't.

Temperance Brennan was lost. She hadn't cried since the paramedics had taken him away from her. Tears were proof of live, and she didn't feel capable of proving life anymore. She knew that her friends were worried about her, that they were grieving as well, but she couldn't take part in their way of dealing with the loss; she couldn't tell stories about things Booth had said and done. Booth... There was pain in her chest in exactly the same spot where the bullet had entered his golden skin.

Seeley Booth was dead.

-BONES-

Day seven. Open the eyes. Feel the pain. Shower. Get dressed. Drink. Eat. Swallow.

Temperance Brennan was building a new routine in her life. Never think about your next step before you make it. Focus on basic needs. Heart in neutral. Brain in overdrive. Never look back. Accept the loneliness. Look at the person sleeping on the couch. This time it was Angela. Sweet, caring Angela with a heart as open as his... stop. Never look back.

Angela opened her eyes and found the woman she considered her best friend looking at her.

"Sweetie, you're already awake. How do you feel?"

Lie. Always lie when somebody asks _that_ question.

"I feel quite focused. My mind has accustomed to the fact that Booth is dead, and I have to move on. I'm going back to work today."

Angela's heart broke for her friend, as she slowly got up and approached her.

"Don't do this, Brenn. You can't compartmentalize this. This was _Booth_. The man you love, Sweetie."

Love. They had never allowed that one to come in between, but ever since their first fight, their first kiss, the promise of love had been there, and the spark had grown over the years, and they hadn't seen it coming because it was too big for them to see. Love... another lost possibility.

"Booth was my partner, and we were close by necessity, but we didn't _love_ each other. You don't have to treat me like a grieving wife."

Her words were harsher than intended, but Angela simply closed her arms around Brennan, and the first trembles were betraying her.

"Sh, it's okay. You love him, and I know that he has loved you, Brennan. You have to mourn, you can't go on after this without crying."

Brennan wouldn't cry. She wouldn't allow anyone to see how broken she was, so she freed herself out of Angela's arms.

"Don't project any sentiments on me, Ange. We will learn to cope, and soon everything will be normal again."

Nothing could ever be normal again. Seeley Booth was dead.

-BONES-

Day ten. Every disembodied limb was his, every white bone was his, every empty ribcage was his, every lost relative was her.

The pain hadn't faded yet. What had faded was his scent on the shirt he had forgotten at her apartment once. What had faded was her ability to compartmentalize.

She needed him. She wanted him back. She wanted to hold him...

Too late.

Forever too late. Tears threatened to fall, but she fought hard against them.

The others saw her struggles, every day. They hurt for her, this one who had loved him the most, but had never been able to say it. They were scared that the Temperance Brennan they had known had died with her partner.

On her way back home "Girls just wanna have fun" came out of the radio, and she almost crashed the car. Memories of Booth flooded her brain, and she couldn't suppress them. A sob escaped her chest. Jasper and Brainy Smurf, _You are not a bad anything_, her mother's earrings, his arms, his smile... For once in her life she knew exactly what it meant. Too late...

-BONES-

Day fourteen.

"It's time, Dr. Brennan."

Ignore them.

"It's Agent Booth's funeral, Dr. Brennan, losing a loved one-"

"A partner, Sweets. I lost a partner."

Lie.

Angela's words and the photo of Booth were her undoing, though. She had to give in. No strength to fight anymore because all her energy was needed to keep those tears inside.

It was a beautiful day, and the sun was shining onto the casket. Less people were standing around the hole in the ground than she would have expected. Breathe. Arms around her body. Anger to protect herself. Her insides were crumbling. No.

Suddenly people were running, and hell broke loose. It happened so fast, and then the turmoil blurred, as her whole being focused on one face. _His_. He was supposed to be dead. How could he be running right now, breathing heavily? Breathing at all...

Relief washed through Brennan's body, followed by the sharp sting of betrayal. The casket fell down, revealing a dummy. A red rose petal lay on the doll right where the bullet had entered his body, but that was the only resemblance.

It was too much, simply too much. Her brain kicked in, rescued her. Grabbing the dummy's arm, she knocked the unknown man Booth was fighting unconsciously. Then her partner was standing in front of her, babbling words that her mind didn't register in her fury. With rage born out of desperation, Brennan clenched her fist, raised her hand and punched him hard. So hard that he fell down again, but she saw it just as little as she noticed her dumbstruck friends because she was already storming out of the graveyard. Leaving this fake behind.

Seeley Booth was alive.

-BONES-

Tears threatened to fall, but Brennan blinked them away. Although she had seen Booth – living, breathing, talking – just a few minutes ago, doubt had already started to gnaw at her. Had she lost her mind? Imagined everything?

Only the painful throbbing in her phalanges told her that it had indeed happened. For a brief moment she had felt the warmth of his skin against her hand. Hitting had been one option; hugging would have been the other one. Her anger had made the decision for her, and that part of her which longed for being buried in his arms yelled in protest.

She wasn't stupid, had recognized the FBI operation behind his faked death. Why hadn't Booth told her? She was his partner, for God's sake, he should have trusted her. Did she mean so little to him? Or could he think that he meant nothing to her? That he could die, and she would go on as if nothing important had happened?

Driving to her apartment had been the natural choice, but as soon as Brennan opened her door, she wondered what she should do next. Two weeks ago her world had fallen into pieces, and the shattered edges were sharp.

Hard knocking interrupted her musings.

"Bones, open the door. I know that you're in there, I've seen your car."

Closing her eyes, Brennan tried to control her features, tried to ignore his voice, even though every fiber of her being longed for seeing Booth.

"Bones, I swear, I will kick this door open."

Knowing him so well, she was positive that he was speaking the truth – but, still, she didn't move.

The sound of cracking wood startled her, as the door gave way. Strong hands grabbed her arms.

"Bones, look at me."

She dictated her eyelids to remain shut, forced herself not to react to the warmth of his touch. He was shaking her now, gently, but she could sense his distress.

"Bones, I didn't know! You were on the list. They were supposed to tell you. Please, open your eyes."

Finally her lids flew open, and Booth had to gasp, as a gaze as cold as ice hit him.

"Well, nobody has told me, but it's okay. You're not dead, your super secret mission was a success, and we can go back to normal again."

"Temperance..."

His voice broke on the second syllable of her first name, but she fought against the tenderness. Concentrating on her rage was easier, so much easier.

"No, Booth, don't you dare calling me 'Temperance' in that voice. Go. Leave me alone. I will see you tomorrow. Be careful not to die in the meantime."

She spit the words into his face, cutting deeply.

"No, I won't go. Yell at me, hit me as often as you want to, but I won't leave you again."

His voice was firm, and Brennan felt something crumbling inside of her. Her eyes prickled with unshed tears, and he could see her agony.

"Go, Booth."

There was a tremor in her voice, and ignoring her words, Booth pulled her into his arms. She struggled in an attempt to fight him, her fists beating against his chest. However, her punches had lost their fierceness, and his heart ached for her.

"_Go_, Booth. Fuck you. Fuck you..."

Not even bothering with restraining her hands, Booth simply tightened his hold on her, and with his face buried in her hair, her familiar scent overwhelmed him. His palm cupped the back of her head, stroking her with hope to calm her down.

"I'm so sorry, Babe, so sorry."

He mumbled soothing nonsense into her ear, and eventually her resistance subsided, and a sob escaped her chest, as she clutched her hands around his biceps.

"I hate you, Booth, I fucking hate you."

Feeling nothing but his comfort, Brennan couldn't fight the emotions anymore, and the tears started to flow, as she finally broke apart. Her knees gave way under the pressure, and she slumped to the floor. The fall wasn't hard, though, because his arms had protected her. He was holding her like a broken-winged bird, and to him she was just as fragile. She was so small in his arms, her tears so hot on his skin.

And she cried, as silent sobs shook her body, she cried about fourteen days of sheer despair, fourteen days of hopeless pain, fourteen days of numb loneliness. All the while he held her, rocking her gently, and his chest hurt so much, as he realized the magnitude of what he had done to her.

While he had watched TV in the FBI's safe house, the bullet wound healing quite nicely, his biggest problem had been missing Parker and Bones. The entire time she had been in hell, Booth had been warm, safe and slightly bored.

"I'm so, so sorry..."

Booth had lost track of time. He knew that there were forms to sign, interrogations to lead and that they should probably go back to the lab and face the fury of the whole squint squad, but right here right now the only thing that mattered was the woman in his arms. He held her shattered being long after her quavers and sobs had subsided, long after the hotness of her tears had cooled down, leaving behind damp and cold spots on his shirt.

When she dared to lift her head from its safe place in the crook of his neck, she looked at him with glistening eyes, her cheeks flushed and damp. He took her face in his hands – tentatively, carefully – and placed an incredibly tender kiss on her forehead. His lips lingered a few moments longer than necessary, and when he pulled away, he saw something like life flickering in her gaze.

"Booth, I don't really hate you."

"I know, Bones."

To be continued...

_Okay, this is technically more than one single moment, and you have to stretch your tolerance a bit to squeeze the last part between the scene at the graveyard and the scene in the lab, but I hope you like it nonetheless. Next chapter will be more fluff._


	5. Fifth Year: The Night in the Trailer

The Fifth Year: The Night in the Trailer

"_She let me knock off a rubber nose from her face with a knife. You would never let me do that, you are way too rational."_

In the end neither of them knew for certain why they decided to stay another night. The trailer was small, tiny even, and their case had long been solved. For once the one who would be blamed wasn't a cold-blooded murderer but a man who had cared about two lost souls so much that he had tried to bury them with as much grace as possible. Who had nothing in mind than protecting his family.

Did it change anything? There would still be a trial, a verdict. There were still two dead women.

Maybe it was the scent of cotton candy and popcorn in the air, or just the disguise of clowns, artists and knife-throwers. Maybe it was the hunch of something yet unspoken but notwithstanding palpable between the two of them. Maybe it was because it was just so damn easy to act under the cover of Buck and Wanda. Boris and Natasha.

They didn't really care what it was, but Temperance Brennan and Seeley Booth gave in to the temptation to hold on to the inexplicable something for a few more hours.

A bottle of cheep booze was all they could find, but the two partners decided in silent agreement that Buck and Wanda wouldn't have minded, so neither did they. An affirmative nod followed a questioning glance, and the two of them took a seat on two unstable plastic chairs in front of their trailer.

People around them usually knew that there was a lot of silent communication between the agent and his anthropologist, a few bold voices might even call it "denial", but the nicer ones settled for "understanding".

As ludicrous as it might seem to an outsider, he understood her despite her squinty talk, and even though she misread people nine times out of ten, she could usually see through him. They had a connection, and as they were sitting in front of their rusty old circus trailer, they could lean back and rest on that comfortable bond. Metaphorically speaking.

Booth poured a healthy amount of the golden spirit into two chipped glasses and pushed one towards her.

She accepted it without pretense and nodded in his direction.

"To Buck and Wanda."

"Cheers."

Tilting his head, Booth felt the alcohol burning down his throat, and he filled the glasses anew.

"To me not killing you."

Her hand – which had already been on its way to her mouth – stilled, and Brennan regarded her partner with big blue eyes.

"Booth, you never would have killed me. I trust you."

"Yeah, and normally I appreciate it, but this time it was just stupid. Stupid! I was shit-scared, Bones."

"The nose?" she mumbled barely audible, looking at him like a child that wasn't sure how grave exactly the mistake had been.

"Yes, the freaking nose was too much."

"Sorry."

"Accepted. Cheers."

Brennan felt moisture prickling behind her closed eyelids, as she swallowed the high percentage stuff.

"Another one?" he asked with an arched eyebrow, and she couldn't show any weakness.

"Sure."

"To families."

He nodded in appreciation.

"That's a good one."

One more time he took the bottle and filled their glasses.

"To our rusty little home," he stated with a gesture towards the trailer.

"And our tiny single bed," she added softly.

"You mind?"

"You snore."

"You toss and turn."

"Drink."

He obeyed, and both of them downed another shot.

The sun already prepared itself for the night, touching the vast sky with pink and violet rays, and the two partners let their eyes roam over the area. The big tent dominated the scene, and with a slightly spinning head, Brennan thought about circus folks. Homeless nomads, outsiders wherever they were, always on the go, never at home. Save that they had a home.

Despite the make-up and the disguises they were honest people, and they had the rare ability to take their home with them, carry it in their trailers and in their hearts – and suddenly she felt a pang of envy.

For most of her life, Temperance Brennan had been a nomad as well. She had been wandering with her belongings in a garbage bag from foster home to foster home – always an intruder, never a family member – and it had taken her years to build protective walls around the longing. Later she had traded the foster homes for digs and expeditions to foreign countries. By then, she wasn't helpless or dependent anymore, but the feeling of being homeless had remained, had become something normal.

Until Seeley Booth had invaded her life, and in his wake some simple theories about love, different kinds of families and commitment.

Turning her head, she cast said man a sideways glance. He looked relaxed and calm, playing with his empty glass on the table absentmindedly. The circus clothes didn't hide his natural strength as well as his usual suits, and for a second she allowed herself to marvel at the sight of his broad chest, his well-defined arms.

He was a very outstanding exemplar of a man, and not only because of his looks.

Sure, at times his alpha-male-tendencies could annoy her beyond words, but when it came to the bottom of things, Brennan was glad to consider someone like this her partner. Her friend.

Somewhere a hurdy gurdy cut into the dusky silence, and some voices chimed in, singing along to the yearning melody.

A sigh left her lips, and then she sensed movement next to her, followed by a tingling on her skin which indicated that he was looking at her. It was ridiculous to assume that one could actually feel a gaze, but when Brennan turned her head, it didn't surprise her one iota to find his dark orbs focused on her.

"Are you feeling lonely?"

Taken aback by his question, Brennan pondered it for a moment.

"To be true, yes. How did you know?"

He shrugged.

"It's the essence of the circus. The whole 'crying clown' thing. Being lonely is woven into the cells of circus people, but it's a different kind of loneliness, one that stirs something."

She thought about his simple wisdom for a moment.

"I suppose you're right. I know loneliness, and this feels different somehow."

"You are not lonely Bones."

Holding his eyes, she nodded.

"I know, Booth. Since I met you."

She heard him suck in a sharp breath; then his features relaxed, and he pointed at the bottle between them.

"One more round?"

"Yes, a final night cap."

Pouring alcohol into the glasses, Booth swayed his head.

"It's not night, yet."

"Almost. There are already stars one the firmament."

She pointed at the velvety sky, and his eyes followed the direction of her arm.

"Venus doesn't really count; you can always see that one first."

He raised his glass.

"To you."

"Me?"

"Yup. Drink."

"Okay. But to you as well, fair is fair."

He chuckled, but the sound turned into a mild gasp, as the strong liquor hit his throat. The alcohol had already made him light-headed, and Booth wondered about the effect it might have on her.

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe a little. I have less body mass than you, so that's not unexpected."

"Does it mean you might sleep like a stone? Because that would be pleasant for a change."

"Booth, I would have been perfectly fine with sleeping on the floor."

"Forget it," he groaned, "I will never ever let a woman sleep on the floor. I could have done it, though."

"It would have been bad for your back. Besides, we were supposed to be a married couple."

"No need to pretend that anymore."

"Still, you don't want me to sleep on the floor, and I don't want you to sleep on the floor."

With a nod, he accepted the stand-off. Truth be told, it wasn't as if sharing a bed with his partner was anywhere near a penalty for Booth. Her body was snugly warm, and more than once had he awoken in the nights to find her curled around him, her Botticelli cheek resting on his shoulder. She used to make sweet little noises in her sleep, and when he held her close enough, the tossing and turning usually stopped, and she melted into his side.

Not that he would tell her anything about it, but if it hadn't been for the tension of being on a case, Booth was pretty sure he might have enjoyed it a lot. Holding her. Finding peace next to her.

More stars had appeared on the firmament, and the cold night breeze caressed her skin, creating goosebumps on her bare arms. Eventually, she shivered, and he noticed it.

"Cold?"

"Yes. I think it's time for me to call it a night."

Booth twisted the empty glass in his hand.

"Go ahead; I'll stay here for one more minute."

She lifted herself from her chair and stretched languorously, a yawn convulsing her cute face.

"Okay. Night, Booth."

"Night, Bones."

Brennan padded towards the trailer, stopping next to his chair for a moment, suppressing the urge to do something sentimental and stupid. 'The heck with it,' she finally decided, after all, this undercover operation had been pretty demanding – and without making too much of it, she lowered her face and pressed a soft but firm kiss to the crown of his head. For a second his sweaty male scent invaded her nostrils, and Brennan shivered again, this time for a different reason.

Then the moment was gone, and she drew back.

She could only guess his quizzical expression in the dim night light.

"What was that for?"

"For not killing me."

She was moving again, leaving him behind with a half-full bottle and a smile.

Seeley Booth was pretty confident about his motor skills, and if it hadn't been Brennan wearing that rubber nose, he wouldn't have felt fear as cold as ice creeping down his spine. However, and he only admitted that because of a half-empty bottle, with Temperance Brennan being his aim, the stake was somehow higher.

She was his partner, and taking care of her safety was part of his duty, but Booth wasn't a fool, he knew that his protectiveness when it came to her originated in more than only their partnership. She may not be hurt. Not by him, not by anybody else. It was an imperative, one that could cause him almost physical pain.

Eying the bottle, Booth decided to grant himself a last shot. To celebrate, to forget, he didn't know, but now that the tension of the operation had started to wear off, he felt as if he might need some more liquid courage to share a bed with Brennan anew.

His gaze lingered on the sparkling sky for a few more heartbeats, and then he rose from his seat as well, prepared to join her.

Getting changed and ready for the night in their tiny bath cell was a pretty challenging exercise, but Booth managed the task as quiet as possible, and five minutes later he approached the little bed in the corner.

She had left on a nightlight for him, and something inside of him shifted at her considerateness. The positive side effect was that he could study her unguardedly for a few heart-crushing moments. Brennan lay on her back, clad in a dark purple nightgown. The previous nights had told him that it was made out of smooth cotton and soft to the touch. It was equipped with a low V-neck with tiny buttons than went even deeper down, and he wondered if he might be able to open it with one gentle tug.

Inhaling deeply, Booth let his gaze wander back to her face. He noticed with a smile that she hadn't bothered to remove her complete make-up; her eyelids and lashes were still smoky dark, her curls pinned up in the unruly hairdo she had sported earlier that evening. A rosy flush decorated her cheeks, and her breast was heaving steadily under her breaths.

She was cute and beautiful and stunning, and he felt an ache deep inside of his chest at the side of her so trustful and vulnerable in her sleep.

He knew her by heart, but the woman lying in front of him wasn't his brilliant forensic anthropologist Bones or his partner in crime Wanda – in these candid night-covered moments it was Temperance, a woman who had been abandoned as a child, who was afraid to be touched by emotions, who needed to be protected from the rest of the world.

By him.

And with this unfamiliar feeling swelling inside of him, Booth switched off the light and slid under the covers next to her, ready to guard her dreams. Immediately, she gravitated towards his warmth, and he allowed himself the luxury to open his arms for her without hesitation.

He felt her head first, as it nuzzled its way into the crook of his neck, followed by slender arms that wrapped themselves around him. Usually, her legs came next, and he lay still, expecting the tangle of limbs between his own. She didn't disappoint him, and a tender smile found its way onto his face. At least in sleep Temperance Brennan was predictable.

Booth was pretty sure that she had no idea what she was doing, what her subconsciousness revealed to him in slumber, but he relished the feeling of holding her, of – for once – treating her like he secretly wanted to treat her.

And with tenderness almost too infinite to bear, he cradled her in the safety of his arms.

A sigh escaped her sleepy lips, and giving in to the temptation, Booth placed a feathery kiss on her temple. And another one.

The purple garment ended just above the crook of her arm, giving way to skin that was shimmering translucent in the moonlight. He had to trace the spot with the pad of his finger, could feel the vibrant rhythm of her pulse. A few inches of vulnerability.

Goosebumps were in the wake of his touch, and he chastised himself when her brow furrowed in sleep and she murmured incoherently.

"Sh..."

He rocked her tenderly, and after a few moments she stilled and Booth had his heartbeat under control again.

Briefly, it crossed his mind that he was taking advantage of her, but he dismissed the unpleasant thought quickly. After all, she had turned to him, and his intentions were nothing but honorable.

Overpowered by his own weakness, Booth buried his nose in her soft hair, enjoying the tickling sensation of pure silk against his skin just as much as the scent he found there. Even after days spent on dusty country roads, in tiny trailers and in the circus ring, Brennan still smelled so feminine, so clean, so like her. So familiar that it sent another rush of longing directly to his heart.

She stirred again, and Booth murmured soft endearments into her hair until she relaxed in his arms. Feeling safe, he removed his head from its tempting place to settle for a more comfortable sleep position.

Then his heart skipped a beat and he forgot how to breathe because in the dim moonlight he found pale blue eyes looking at him.

-BONES-

Booth's first impulse was to loosen his hold on her, but somehow his muscles refused to obey the signals his brain was sending, and he could do nothing more than return her gaze.

Blue, so blue, with tiny freckles of gray and even a hint of green. Pupils so dark and wide. Eyebrows wrinkled in questioning confusion.

Booth sighed silently, awaiting the verdict and his punishment.

Brennan felt warm. Her body was tingling comfortably where it made contact with his, and that was pretty much everywhere. She had always had a light sleep, and it had taken her by surprise to awake entangled with her partner, enfolded in his arms.

However, if his silent stare was an indicator, he was just as shocked as she was to find them awake and in that position. She waited for him to move, but when he stayed rigid, Brennan relaxed. If only she could close her eyes and go back to sleep, then she might enjoy his tender embrace just a little bit longer.

His eyes widened when he felt her snuggling back into his arms. Out of every possible reaction – and his mind had provided him with a few fairly painful ones in the last seconds – he hadn't expected this.

"Bones," he finally whispered.

"Sh," she stilled him, "don't speak."

Her voice vibrated against his chest, and he sighed, as his hand started to draw lazy circles on her back involuntarily.

"I'm sorry, this is probably inappropriate."

The sheets rustled, as she shifted in his arms, and then her closed lips were pressed to his oh so softly.

"I said, 'Don't speak.'"

Before he had a chance to react, it was already over, and he gasped.

Had she just kissed him?

Tightening his hold on her, he drew her closer into his embrace, and she followed his demand willingly, wrapping her arms securely around his bare midsection where the T-shirt had ridden up.

She was so small, so delicate compared to his solid frame, but in this moment Brennan felt nothing but real to him, and without being afraid to break her, Booth rolled her around gently until he could cover her with his body.

A few more strands had loosened, and he brushed them out of her eyes with his flat palm, studying her face calmly.

"You're so beautiful," he confessed.

She rewarded him with a shy smile.

"Wanda wears too much make-up for my taste."

Shaking his head, he dismissed her.

"Wanda was smoking hot, but I'm talking about you, Temperance. There," he poked her forehead gently, "there," his hand cupped her cheek, caressing lovingly, "and above everything else, there."

With his last words he placed his hand directly over her heartbeat, feeling the fast rhythm underneath his touch.

She turned her head to avoid his gaze, and even in the pale moonlight he could see her blush.

"Sorry..."

Feeling as if he had overstepped a boundary, Booth bowed his head in defeat and attempted to roll down from her, but she stopped him by locking her arms behind his back.

"Please, don't feel sorry for saying something so nice to me. I'm just... not used to it, I suppose."

"It's nothing but the truth."

"I know that my looks are quite appealing, but nobody has ever called my brain 'beautiful' and most definitely not my heart."

Something inside of him was crushed at her words, and he lowered his head to her shoulder.

"Oh, Bones... I'm in awe of you... If only you knew."

She rocked him gently, and Booth wondered why _she_ was suddenly comforting _him_. Lifting his head again, he searched for her eyes.

"Your nose for example," he touched the tip of it lightly, "it's a perfect nose, elegant and narrow. Symmetric and appealing. But whenever you think too hard, you get those cute little wrinkles."

"My brain makes my nose cute?"

"Basically, but that's just one example, of course. Your brain finds solutions, solves mysteries, sees connections. And you use your mind-blowing intelligence to give people closure or to please your friends. That's your heart."

He surprised himself by pressing a quick kiss to the tip of her nose.

"Milky-white skin, soft hair, big eyes, brilliant brain, caring heart – that's all you. Every single one of this adds to your unique beauty, makes you so special."

Wetness was shimmering in her eyes, and Brennan was glad for the shelter of darkness.

"That's what you see in me?"

He nodded silently.

"And so much more."

"Oh, Booth... you know that I see the same in you as well, don't you?"

He chuckled.

"You are in awe of my milky-white skin and my cute little nose as well? That's good to know."

She nudged him playfully.

"Obviously you're messing with me because your skin is significantly darker than mine and your nose not exactly small, but the basic concept is the same, the package of looks, brain and heart. Although, I would probably start with your heart because it is the most outstanding of your generally outstanding treats."

"So you like me?" he interrupted her ramblings, and she smiled.

"Awfully."

"I'm relieved. Does it mean you forgive me for cuddling you in sleep?"

"Well, I'm not sure about that one. Why did you do it, anyway?"

He laughed softly.

"The only thing I did was not pushing you away, Temperance."

She gasped incredulously.

"I started this?"

Again, he could notice her faint blush, and suddenly her cheeks felt hot to his touch.

"Well, I did _not_ push you away."

"Traitorous body of mine," she uttered between pressed teeth.

"I... I liked it," he admitted with a shrug. "Somehow the world is a better place when I know that you are safe, and how much safer can it get than having you in my arms while you are asleep?"

Still avoiding his gaze, she admitted in a low voice.

"I felt pretty safe. _Feel_..."

Her use of the present tense reminded him with force that he was still covering her hour-glass figure with his own solid body. Given the fact that she hadn't responded to his former attempt to roll down from her too well, Booth lowered his head to hers and came to an halt a wing beat apart from her face.

"Still within your comfort zone?" he asked on a whisper, but she merely arched her back, and when their lips met in a tentative caress, she had taken the decision from him.

Nibbling his lower lip with incredible gentleness, Brennan tunneled her hands in his hair and held his head in place. Booth sighed into her mouth, as he surrendered himself to her kiss, and when his lips finally parted, her tongue slipped in between with neither haste nor delay.

It was velvet, it was warmth, it was Brennan, and only the darker color of her eyelids sang a song of the events of the last days, giving away the purpose of their presence right here, right now. Strangely enough, it were those residues of her make-up that reminded him who they were – Booth and Brennan; partners, friends – and who not – Buck and Wanda; adventurists, spouses – and even with the perfect feeling of her soft lips against his, with the aching rightness of his swelling arousal nestled in the depths between her thighs, he felt his brain kicking in.

He broke the kiss, panting heavily, and the combination of cotton and bare skin where he met the juncture of her legs was almost his undoing.

"Temperance, _honey_, is this us?" he asked desperately.

The tender tone in his voice hit her with unexpected force.

"I'm pretty sure you have never called me 'honey' before."

Pressing her forehead close to his, he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs.

"I'm only stopping once, at all costs, but Bones, before this goes any further and we make love to a dream, I have to be sure. Is this _us_? Or... two people who ran off to join the circus, who are in need for an adventure?"

Closing her eyes, Brennan felt tears welling up, but she blinked them away with determination. She didn't want to think; she wanted to feel, to lose herself in Booth, but... he was probably right. They were too rational, too cautious to risk the foundation of their relationship on the wings of a nightingale.

She opened her eyes on a deep breath and found a myriad of emotions in his brown orbs. He didn't want to throw that knife at her, he wanted to hold her, he wanted to work with her, he wanted to feed her, he didn't want only sex, he wanted sex, he didn't want to hurt her, he was afraid to be hurt himself, he couldn't risk losing her, he needed her brain to challenge him, he loved to infuriate her...

"Oh, Booth, I don't know," she finally admitted, and he let go of a heartfelt sigh. Part of him yelled at his other part for interrupting this wonderful thing in the first place, for scrutinizing it, but like he had already felt it once today, when it came to her, the stake was too high. He couldn't gamble for her – neither her body nor her soul.

Rolling them around until she was nestled into his side again, he tucked her head under his chin.

"You are too important to risk an, 'I don't know,' Temperance," and she felt like sobbing at his words. Nobody had ever chosen her inner over her exterior beauty so easily, and in a moment of sudden clarity she knew the answer to his question. It was _them_, it would always be them because they were too precious to each other to be nothing than honest down the road.

She wanted to say it, wanted to say it so badly, but somehow she couldn't speak against the lump that had formed in her throat, so she settled for wrapping herself tighter around his body, clasping him in a frantic embrace.

He hugged her back just as tightly, reluctant to let her go ever again, and in the darkness of the night, he heard his heart beating next to hers, and despite everything that had not happened, Booth felt himself closer to her than ever before.

-BONES-

The next morning they were alone; the circus had moved on in the night, leaving the two "gillies" behind. Sipping his coffee, Booth let his eyes wander over the empty space around them, and her words were still echoing in his mind.

_We did it._

Yeah, they had done it. Just... not everything.

To be continued...

_Okay, I think I lied to you. My original plan was to choose one moment for every year and to end this story within the next days with a steamy and sweet future chapter. I guess I could still do that, but there are so many moments, so many "almosts". What do you think about making this a longer project, to write about more than only one moment a year? I will definitely write about the sixth and seventh year first, but then I could go back and add some chapters here and there. "The Man in the Morgue" for example and his tumor. Are you in this with me? And feel free to suggest moments, if you like._


	6. Sixth Year: The Definition of Insanity

_Oh, my... you might not gonna like this. Well, somehow this ended up being M..._

The Sixth Year: The Definition of Insanity

"_I don't have your kind of open heart."_

He had done it wrong. Inside of his chest there was a dark hole throbbing with dull pain. The teenage psychologist had caught him off guard, and their memories of that night in the rain so long ago had weakened him.

Five years.

Five years of working with her, taking care of her, and now he had committed the ultimate betrayal, had been willing to risk their partnership. That's the way she would see it, Booth was sure about it. He _knew_ Brennan, he knew that she may not be pushed.

Still, he had done it, had gambled everything. And for what? There had been moments over the years, magic moments when he had been so close to her that taking the final step had felt almost inevitable. They had never done it, though. Why had he pursued the need to _create_ a moment?

She wouldn't be able to rationalize this one, it couldn't be shrugged off as a slip that had happened during an undercover operation or under the influence of alcohol. This had been Booth and Brennan, standing in front of the Hoover Building after an appointment with their psychologist. Hell, kissing her in the middle of the lab couldn't have been worse.

He hadn't even told her that he was in love with her. At least not with those three words which were probably necessary for such a literal woman.

What he had told her was that he had to move on. Move on? Sardonic laughter roared inside of his head. How do you spell "move on"?

Wounded vanity and injured pride had spoken these words, but now he wasn't able to take them back.

He could still feel her head on his shoulder, right there where she had placed it just a few minutes ago. She had turned him down, had hidden herself behind science and reason, but like so often her body had betrayed her logic, had sought his proximity.

Booth _knew_ that she had feelings for him – in retrospective had known it when she had taken that cab so many years ago, or when she had kissed him in that stolen night in the circus trailer.

Letting go of a heartfelt sigh, Booth steered the black SUV through the dark streets of Washington DC. Turning his head, he cast a quick glance at his partner on the passenger seat.

She hadn't spoken a word since they had entered the car, and her silence weighed heavily on him. Her shoulders were slumped, and she looked like a broken-winged butterfly, so vulnerable and utterly lost that he wanted to hold her, to tell her that everything would be okay.

Safe that he wasn't sure if everything would be okay, or if he could ever again envelop her in an innocent guy hug.

An hour ago he had been perfectly fine, well not necessarily the luckiest bastard on earth, but fine. His job was satisfying and rewarding, he had an adorable son, and every day he saw his partner, this woman who was as beautiful as the sun, as cute as the sweetest apple pie, as wonderful as a summer night's rain.

Now he felt as if he had lost something, and even though one cannot possibly lose something they had never possessed in the first place, the loss was distinct and palpable.

He had lost his hopes.

Ever since he had dreamed about her – literally dreamed about her – Booth had fantasized about Brennan more and more.

Not that kind of fantasies which end with labored breathing and an aching wrist, but those that make you warm and fuzzy inside. Her face first thing in the morning. The sound of her bare feet on his wooden floor. The scent of her hair when he would bury his nose in it. The sight of her body heavy with his child...

Seeley Booth was a dreamer, and tonight that had proven to be his mistake.

-BONES-

Temperance Brennan tried very hard not to think.

She could feel despair radiating from her partner, and his sadness added to her own was almost too much to bear. Once she had said to Gordon Gordon that she couldn't think of anything that she wouldn't do to help Booth. Tonight she had found out that this had been a lie because there was one thing she couldn't do.

Brennan couldn't risk him to be hurt, and in doing so she had probably hurt him worse than ever. The irony almost tore her apart.

Every cell of her body wanted to be _that_ woman for him, the one who _knew_ as well, but evidence had told her that she wasn't good at relationships, that she wasn't that kind of woman. He deserved so much more than she could ever give him, and despite all her brilliance Brennan failed to see the flaw in her logic, failed to realize that she had had just sacrificed her own happiness and that her motivation had been nothing but love.

She had told him that she couldn't change, when, in reality, she had experienced a metamorphosis ever since their eyes had first met.

Silent tears were running down her cheeks again, and when she couldn't suppress her sniffles anymore, she sensed a movement next to her. His hand, reaching out to her. She waited for the comforting warmth of it on her own, for his reassuring touch, but then the movement stilled, and Booth withdrew his arm.

Bowing her head, Brennan let the tears fall onto her clothes.

Now he couldn't even touch her anymore?

What had she done? How could she possibly live in a world where he didn't touch her?

A gentle tug at her arm, a fleeting caress, an innocent guy hug, his palm on the small of her back – their relationship, the magic thing that was Booth and Brennan, Brennan and Booth, was a whole universe of precious little details, shared secrets, affectionate moments. She wasn't sure if he registered how often he touched her, or if he was aware that she noticed it as well, but Brennan was accustomed to him invading her personal space; she loved their physical closeness. It had always made her feel special and safe.

The world would be a very cold place without it.

However, it was her own fault. Was it so bad to initiate a romantic relationship with Seeley Booth?

'No!'

The voice screamed loud in her head, but again there was that cautious whisper warning her.

'This is not about you, Temperance, this is about him. You cannot give him what he needs.'

'Shouldn't _he_ be the one to decide what he needs?'

'He is too kindhearted, too emotional to make this decision. Besides, he can impossibly know how he will feel in thirty years. Or in thirty days.'

'So it isn't really about him, Tempe? It is about your own fear that he might abandon you once he has figured out that you are not what he wants?'

'Well, so what? Love is ephemeral and not reliable. What we have is stable, though.'

'Temperance Brennan, you are hurting this kind man because you are a coward.'

'I'm protecting him. In the end, my decision is more rational and will be better for us.'

'You will die old and lonely.'

'In the end, everybody is lonely.'

The battling voices in her head were exhausting, and Brennan closed her eyes, as dull ache started to settle in her temples.

-BONES-

With a deep breath, Booth parked the car in front of her building and turned to her. She still looked like a picture of misery; gone was that spark which usually surrounded her. He had already lost everything tonight, and with a last rebellion of desperate hope, Booth opened his mouth.

"Bones, it's not too late. If you have, by any chance, changed your mind..."

He knew that he was close to begging, but he was way beyond caring.

Her head turned to him, and she regarded him with bright eyes that still possessed the lost-little-girl look.

"I know that I told you I have to move on... to find someone who loves me in thirty, forty, fifty years, but, honestly, I don't know if there's anyone else _I_ could... love..."

"Booth, I _can't_..."

Her voice broke, and fresh tears started to fall.

Nodding in final defeat, Booth felt the weight of the universe crushing his chest, but with his last ounce of warmth he reached out to her to pull her into his arms.

At the feeling of his hands on her, a desperate sob of relief escaped her, and then she was suddenly in his lap, clinging to his body with everything she had. Her legs were dangling quite awkwardly at his sides, but his arms were tightly wrapped around her, steadying her, grounding her.

She cried into his hair without shame, and then she felt moisture that wasn't her own dampening her cheek.

"Aaahhhhh!"

His scream was loud, toneless and came out of the bottom of his bruised heart. It hit her chest like an arrow.

The hot puff of his breath brushed over her ear, and he almost suffocated her with the power of his embrace. She couldn't care less.

Then his hand was in her hair – almost painful – and with nothing left to lose his lips crushed onto hers, and this time she didn't fight it. Within a second his tongue had invaded her mouth, and he was kissing her as if he wanted to drain life itself out of her.

Brennan responded with ravenousness, and when she bit his lower lip, the flavor of the kiss mingled with a trace of blood. He didn't even flinch, and a dark and primeval part of her triumphed at the knowledge that she was tasting the very essence of him.

His mouth was devouring, his tongue demanding, and the fierceness of the kiss made her body throb with frantic ache.

She _needed_ him! And she couldn't have him, at least not forever, but right now she had no strength to let go of him.

His hands slid from her hair down her spine to her buttocks, and he cupped her boldly, pressing her hard against his own painful erection. One more time Brennan felt like sobbing with relief. She couldn't say 'no' to him first and fuck him half an hour later, but... she could _let_ _him_ fuck her. Taste him, feel him at least once before he would move on to find everlasting happiness with a woman who deserved him.

Grinding shamelessly against him, she added friction to their already pulsating bodies, and she felt his growl against her lips. This time he bit her, and the distant pain was almost welcome.

With flying fingers, she opened his pants to free him, and then he was in her hand – hot, hard, ready and everything she needed.

For a moment their lips lost contact, as his head fell back on a groan, but she followed immediately, bringing her mouth to his throat, licking and sucking the exposed skin. He tasted like more...

Holding him in a tight grip, Brennan stroked up and down his shaft, unable to control the urge inside of her. Suddenly his hands loosened the tie of her coat, slipping under her dress hereafter. Despite the tight fit of the garment, he managed to roam all the way up to her breasts, finally squeezing and teasing this female part of her. She whimpered, as he pinched her sensitive peaks, and pressed herself harder against his palms.

His hand slid down again, coming to an halt between her legs, directly over her heat.

"Temperance..."

"No," she interrupted him, "_please_. Don't think, Booth..."

A shallow laughter left his lips.

"Oh, don't worry, Bones, I've stopped thinking a few hours ago, and there's no way we're not finishing this. But... do you remember that night in the circus trailer?"

Avoiding his eyes, she nodded. How could she ever forget?

"That night would have been sweet and tender. This," his fingernail grazed over her core, "will be far apart from that."

And without further delay he brushed her panties aside and plunged two fingers into her body. Crying out, she tightened her hold on his shaft, and her head fell to his shoulder.

She was warm, so warm and wet. Her muscles tensed and relaxed around his fingers, and Booth felt like howling, as he touched her so intimately for the first time. He thrust deep inside her body, his thumb rubbing her swollen clit.

"Yes," she gasped, and her breathless voice set him on fire. Searching for her lips, he kissed her again, intuitively matching the rhythm of his strokes with the kiss.

Need was building inside of him, and reluctantly he removed his fingers, earning a moan of protest from her. She didn't have to wait long, though, because without bothering to pull down her panties, he placed himself at her opening, simply tugging the piece of clothing aside.

"Bones?"

"Yes, please."

"Yes, what?"

"Let me feel you. At least once..."

Not the slightest bit interested in denying her what he desired as well, Booth pulled her down on him until he filled her completely.

And they were connected.

Brennan felt as if she might burst, and so she kissed him again, hard and deep and completely. Without leaving her lips, Booth started to move, sliding in and out of her in bittersweet perfection. Her palms on his shoulders, Brennan tried to support him, to meet his thrusts – and as always they worked in perfect synchrony, complementing each other.

The car was filled with moans and whimpers, fire was building rapidly. This was unlike the first time Booth had pictured in his mind so often, but reality wasn't a cotton candy dream, and right now there was nothing more important in this world than the feeling of moving in Brennan's body, touching her as deep as possible.

'This is insane,' she thought, as she felt boiling heat pooling low in her belly, and despite the sexual haze that filled her, Brennan's mind couldn't help providing her with the fact that this was most definitely a different outcome. One that she hadn't expected at all.

Then the last coherent thought left her mind, and she fell apart, splintering into a million pieces of sensations and light.

Booth heard her muffled cry, swallowed it, and when he felt her soft walls contracting around him, wrapping him into the most private embrace ever, he had no choice but following her.

With tears gathering behind closed eyelids, Booth slipped and fell until he emptied himself into her over and over again.

Then there was silence.

Afraid of her retreat, Booth locked his arms behind her back, and Brennan granted herself the luxury of being close to him one more minute. The prospect of leaving him crushed her heart, but on balance... the closer she got to him, the more it would hurt.

Gathering her last strength, she finally disentangled herself from him, and he observed her with dark eyes, as she rearranged her clothes.

"Baby, you're making a mistake..."

Her eyes flew to his, and she didn't hide the shimmering curtain of moisture in them.

"Booth, _you will _be happy."

He smiled wistfully, brushing a damp curl out of her face.

"Tonight, for a few minutes, I've seen happiness."

A single tear rolled down her cheek at his words, and the dimples of sadness on her chin almost broke him.

"I know," she whispered.

Then she was gone.

To be continued...

_Phew... that was depressing... And something tells me that it could be hard to find a happier moment for season six... I know that this scenario stretches the reality way too far, but I couldn't help myself. I suppose I'm not used to writing so much T ;-)_


	7. Seventh Year: The Universe Speaking

_Have I said thanks recently for your kind reviews?_

The Seventh Year: The Universe Speaking

"_I got the signal, Booth. I don't wanna have any regrets."_

Almost 1 am, and still sleep didn't want to come and rescue her from her relentless mind. Brennan flung around in her lonely bed. As always, she only occupied the right side, but next to her was a big and fluffy pillow. A sad substitute, she was aware of it, but nonetheless, it was at least something she could hold onto.

This case...

Normally, Temperance Brennan didn't have trouble to go home at night and leave the dead at work, but this woman was haunting her. She didn't even know what Lauren had looked like because every time she laid eyes on her picture, her own – Brennan's – face was staring back at her. A face so hard and empty.

She had never minded being alone; it didn't necessarily mean that you are lonely, even though, she admitted, there had been a sting of loneliness every now and then since she had returned from Maluku. Since he had come back from Afghanistan, bringing the other woman with him.

Hannah was sweet and funny and gracious, and Brennan knew that she should be happy for Booth. After all, he was a man who needed a mate to experience true happiness, and Hannah was a woman that _did_ deserve him. One that had given up everything to share her life with him. One that was braver than Brennan herself had been.

She had tried very hard to convince her friends and herself that she was happy for Booth, but – truth be told – there was another feeling as well, one that was oddly unfamiliar.

Jealousy.

Everybody seemed to like Hannah, even Parker wasn't immune to the easiness, fun and charm his father's young girlfriend radiated. It had been in the Diner, surrounded by love that excluded Brennan, when her shields had started to crack, really crack, for the first time. Seeing her partner holding hands with Hannah had evoked a sharp pain which had tugged at her insides, filling her with nausea.

Brennan had to flee the scene, but she had congratulated herself for the composure she had been able to fake. At least until she had been at home. Alone... as always.

She had possessed the utmost faith that she would have been able to strengthen herself again, to seal the crack. And she might have been able to fix it – at least temporarily – if it hadn't been for Lauren. This case threatened to change everything...

She had been just like Brennan. Brilliant, beautiful, alone. Somehow the similarities between the murder victim and herself were the last straw. And like the poor camel used to break under the last straw, the strong anthropologist feared that she might as well.

Tossing around one more time, Brennan wondered was was going on with her. After all, she was leading a life as expected, and if it hadn't been for her own cowardice, Booth could be lying next to her right now. Instead of that damned pillow.

He had never made love to her... because that night in the SUV had been nothing but sheer desperation. A farewell, not a beginning. The feeling of his body moving inside of her wasn't a memory she could revive too often; it was simply too much. They had been so close to each other, so intimately connected in every sense of the word.

With the full knowledge of everything that had happened ever since, Brennan wished she could turn back the hands of time, choose another path. Why had she left him that night?

She had been afraid to lose him and now she had lost him all the same. Sure, Booth was still her partner, but he barely touched her these days, barely visited her in the lab. He even avoided their friends, and more than once she had to find excuses for his absence.

Once he had told her that there was more than one kind of family, and Brennan had believed him – as always – but it seemed as if he had forgotten his own words.

Exhaling deeply, Brennan turned onto her back, letting go of the pillow next to her. Something felt so... strange. Something about her perception was terribly wrong, and Brennan worried that she was teetering on the abyss of something huge. Something that might swallow her.

1.06 am. With a sigh of defeat, Brennan left her bed.

-BONES-

1.07 am. Booth awoke with a jolt. Hannah had spoken in sleep. She did that a lot, and he was still not used to it. Casting a quick glance at her, he fell back onto his pillow. Sharing a bed and a life with her was somehow... soothing, but...

The last year had been like a roller coaster ride, and sometimes he found it difficult to adjust to everything that had happened since the night on the steps of the Hoover Building.

That night, when he had gambled and lost.

For a few precious moments he had been allowed to hold Temperance Brennan, to find oblivion in her body. And then, before he had realized how exactly it could had happened so fast, the merciless sun of Afghanistan was burning down on him, and one more time in his life he had to taste the desert dust, had to smell gun powder, burning flesh and blood.

Then his world had turned another time, and he was back in DC, back in his old life, but like an old suit he had outgrown, somehow it didn't fit anymore.

Hannah was kind of an anchor for him, and he loved her for her sweet easiness. Being with her was fun, it didn't burn him like Brennan always had.

To Hannah, he wasn't a designated gambler, a soldier who had been tortured, a child that had been abused or the poor guy who had been in love with his brilliant partner far too long. She didn't know his demons – to her he was just Seeley, and right now, he didn't have the strength to be anything else.

Booth tried not to worry about his partner. This was easier said than done because for six years her wellbeing had been his first priority. Ever since the skeleton under the tree had been discovered, she seemed different, shaken somehow, and the former Booth would have grabbed some Thai food and would have found an excuse to show up at her door in the middle of the night. Well, that wasn't an option anymore.

Looking at Hannah one more time, Booth thought that she was beautiful. It was a different kind of beauty, one that did not crush his heart, splintering him completely. It was a beauty that could be enjoyed without consequences. Every time he had observed Brennan sleeping, he had to pay the price for it afterwards. There was something about her face, her eyes, that used to touch him so deeply, that had moved something inside of him.

A part that was quiet and still now.

It was easier this way, and besides... it wasn't as if he had an option.

To be continued...

_Sigh, more depressing stuff. Sorry for not writing about the last scene, but I already had her crying twice, and I'm running out of words and strength to describe her teary-eyed beauty... If I didn't love her so much, season six would have been unbearable so far. But I set my full hope in the second half of the season to give us more wonderful moments. Until then, I'll make up for it. Next one will be happy, smutty fluff. Be prepared ;-)_


	8. Tenth Year:Everything Happens Eventually

_We're making a time jump now because I really need to leave them in a happy place. I give the show three years to catch up with me, to make it to this moment. I dare you, Hart ;-)_

The Tenth Year: Everything Happens Eventually

"_Happy days are coming my way, its been some time, but here to stay, is the life of love I've found, sends me up on happy ground."_

"Booth, we don't have time..."

Brennan squealed adorably, as Booth grabbed her arm and pulled her back to bed. She was gloriously naked, and her cheeks were still adorably flushed from their previous lovemaking.

"One more hour, Baby. I have missed you in the last weeks."

Brennan had guest lectured at the local university, and the additional duties on top of her work at the Jeffersonian and with the FBI had resulted in a very tight schedule. The most he had seen of her in the last days had been her sleeping face at night – not that he did complain because there had been a time when he had given up every hope to see her like this again, to share a life with her.

These days there were two toothbrushes in the bathroom, dresses snuggling with suits in the closet, and her gross healthy stuff coexisted peacefully with his real food in the fridge. Somewhere along the road their paths had crossed – truly and finally crossed – and had lead to a single one, wide enough for the both of them; wide enough for their friends, her godchildren, his son.

Risking a quick glance at the alarm clock on her nightstand, Brennan rolled her eyes in mocked frustration, as Booth started to nibble along her jawline. Granted, it was Saturday, but they were supposed to be at Parker's hockey game in almost two hours, and she really needed to talk to her partner beforehand.

"Booth," she protested, but it ended up being a purr, as he sucked her earlobe into his mouth. He knew how to make her speechless, every freaking single time. Not that it truly bothered her because being in his strong arms was the closest thing to perfect Brennan knew.

"Hmm... you were saying?"

Yes, what had she wanted to say? It had been somehow important.

Pouting, she took his face in her hand, removing his mouth from her neck.

"Booth, you are kissing me stupid again."

Chuckling, Booth lowered his head anew to capture her soft lips for a sweet moment.

"My favorite pastime. Ah, Baby, you're just too cute for words."

Pastime... Time... That rang a bell.

"We don't have time!"

Thank God, that had been the important thought he had kissed away.

Disentangling herself from him was easier said than done, though, because he simply locked her in his arms and rolled them around until she was sprawled out underneath him. He was still naked, and the contact with his warm flesh caused her body to tingle. Even with her mind protesting, as always her body reacted when it recognized its mate. Brennan had no idea if it was his unique scent, so fresh and male, or the alluring combination of firm muscles and soft skin – or maybe it was just his low and sonorous voice, but always – always! – his proximity called out to her, did... _things_ to her she had never experienced before him; things that couldn't be explained by pheromones alone.

Booth could reduce her to a mushy and incoherent puddle of feelings, but Brennan had stopped worrying about that a few months ago. She had adjusted, and for a change adjusting had been heart-warming fun.

She loved him, loved him so much, and today the strong rush of emotions he could evoke in her didn't scare her anymore. He had promised her forever – a concept she had never believed in – but his infinite love had made her greedy, and she wasn't willing to settle for less than eternal anymore. Sure, at some point he would die, or she would die, but Brennan had found the strength to believe that this day would be in the very distant future.

Besides, it was worth it.

The pure bliss when he kissed her goodnight, the singing voices in her chest when she saw his smile first thing in the morning.

_You love someone, you open yourself up to suffering, that's the sad truth. Maybe they'll break your heart; maybe you'll break their heart and never be able to look at yourself in the same way. Those are the risks. That's the burden. Like wings, they have weight, we feel that weight on our backs, but they are a burden that lifts us. Burdens which allow us to fly._

Brennan had written those words so many years ago, and back then she hadn't even been able to grasp the whole meaning of what she was typing. Now she understood.

Opening her heart for Booth had made her fragile and vulnerable. In theory, it should have endangered her, should have left her weak and defenseless. Well, sometimes a theory is just a theory because never in her whole life had she been stronger. Or safer. Or happier.

Smiling up at him, she tried to think of a solution for their current time problem.

"Honey, I'd like to suggest a deal."

He arched an eyebrow at her, but his curiosity was definitely piqued.

"A deal? That has to be a good one because right now I can't see the merits of letting you leave this bed."

"Well," lifting her face to kiss him, Brennan had to smile when she felt his big palm cupping the back of her head, steadying her, "what about you release me now, and we can share a shower before having breakfast and watching your son's hockey game?"

"Hmm," he seemed to ponder the possibilities for a moment, but she already knew that she had him. "I can do your back? Plus pancakes for breakfast?"

She nodded with a smile. It was so easy to please him, so easy to make him laugh. Brennan couldn't understand why she had ever doubted her ability to give him happiness because evidence said she was pretty good at it.

When he finally loosened his hold on her, not without kissing her stupid another time, she dragged him along to the bathroom, almost pushing him into the spacious stall. Thanks to their past, neither of them felt too comfortable in narrow spaces, and they had agreed on a big shower easily.

"What are you still doing out there, Baby?"

His voice mingled with the sound of water, and she hurried.

"Prewarming your towel."

"Aw... you're spoiling me, Bones."

Shrugging, she joined him in the shower.

"You like your towels warm, and since we've established that this is not a sign of unmanliness," warned by his look, she hurried to add, "and I will never mention it in front of Hodgins again – like I had to promise – there is no reason for me not to respect your preferences and provide you with a warm towel."

He pulled her into his arms, brushing his lips over hers.

"I love you, Temperance. Thanks for taking care of me."

Then his mouth curved into a playful grin, and he slapped her bare buttocks lightly.

"And don't forget the not-tell-Hodgins part, or do I have to remind you of your punishment?" he smirked, and she blushed.

"No, I learned my lesson about things that better stay private."

"Good."

Not that he had not enjoyed _teaching_ her that lesson...

Lifting herself onto her tiptoes, Brennan poked his nose with her own, and he found devilish sparkles in her expressive eyes.

"Interested in more 'punishment'?"

Shaking her head, she stated,

"On the contrary, what about gratitude for me taking care of your towel temperature?"

"Gratitude, huh?"

Tilting her head, she managed to hold his gaze without blinking.

Then his lips were on hers, moving over them with infinite familiarity, and oh so gently he guided her towards the wall until her spine made contact with the cold tiles, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Holding her with one arm, Booth let his other hand slid down her body, briefly lingering on her lovely breasts before moving southwards.

Drawing one, two circles over her flat belly, he felt her abdominal muscles contract under his touch, right before he met the short curls that framed her most private parts.

Lifting one leg to wrap it around his hip, Brennan made space for his fingers, and he accepted the invitation. With a smile on his face, he whispered into her ear,

"Very considerate of you, Dr. Brennan."

Shifting her head until she could meet his eyes, she smirked,

"I just want to make sure that you don't slip again by trying something anatomically impossible, Agent Booth."

He laughed.

"Oh, God, I love you so much," and with his words he dipped his finger into her body and pressed himself flush against her.

"I love you so much right back," she managed to utter before her head fell backwards, hitting the wall.

Licking her exposed throat, he stroked in and out of her in a rhythm so slow that is was designed to drive her crazy, every once in a while flickering over her sensitive bundle of nerves. She made sweet little noises that went straight to his groins, and with a final deep thrust he slid out of her.

"Booth..."

The protest died on her lips when he fell to his knees in front of her.

"Baby, you are so beautiful."

"Booth..."

"Yes," and he parted her very gently with his fingers before he closed the distance to his lips, finally kissing her so intimately. He would never forget the first time he had tasted her, and ever since then she had been his favorite flavor. She intoxicated him.

Using his thumb to skim her entrance, Booth closed his lips around her swollen clit. He knew how to please her, and taking full advantage of this knowledge, he varied between licking and sucking her for a few sweet minutes.

When her breathing came faster, he dove his finger deep into her body, immediately greeted by the tight fit of her muscles around him. Pleasuring her with his mouth always excited him exceedingly, and he debated whether showing her his full gratitude like this or pinning her against the wall with his body.

Like so often, she took the decision from him by tugging at his shoulders. Within a heartbeat he was on his feet again, kissing her hungrily, and she could taste herself on his tongue. Another sensation she had learned to get used to.

His velvet-hard erection was pressed between them, and Brennan moaned at the caress of his arousal. Wrapping her arms around him, she cupped his buttocks with her palms, kneading tenderly. She loved his body – from his brown eyes to his sensitive feet and every single inch in between, but most of all she enjoyed the feeling of his firm gluteal muscle in her hands. His ass, like he would correct her.

His mouth on her breast tore her out of her admiration, and a content sigh left her lips, as a trail of fire ran from her chest straight to her core. Yes.

Her hand traveled around his hip – giving it a lovingly squeeze – before disappearing between their bodies. Cupping his heavy balls, she tugged lightly, just like she knew he loved it. A low groan was her answer, and then he was searching her lips anew, kissing and sucking her until every single cell in her body was burning.

From a kiss!

Her dazed brain registered the movement when he lifted her effortlessly, and her legs spread on their own volition.

"Bones."

He called his name for her in this husky voice, and her eyelids flew open.

_It's a myth that a person's intentions and desires can be seen in the eyes..._

Nevertheless, when he looked at her with this expressive gaze, she found love and happiness and devotion in his brown depths, and she could only hope that he could see it mirrored in her own.

Then he entered her, and his irises turned dark.

"Oh, Bones..."

She hugged him tight, as he began to rock them in a rhythm that was just as familiar to her as her own heartbeat. Her head hit the wall, when he deepened his thrusts, and immediately his hand cupped her neck, protecting her. Holding her upright with his body and one strong arm around her midsection, he had limited mobility, but she wrapped her legs securely around his waist and contracted her inner muscles around him to draw him in tighter.

Yoga... Booth had really learned to appreciate yoga.

"Booth, I love you, I love you," she whispered against his lips, and he rotated his pelvis to touch her deeper, harder, faster. Her mouth opened in a silent "Oh", as he hit the perfect spot, and she started to shiver. It began in her arms, closely followed by her legs, and then her insides clenched around him.

"Yes, come for me, Baby," he murmured, and she whimpered, as her world turned upside down and right side up again.

Holding her as close as possible, Booth thrust in and out of her in sweet rapture until her contractions subsided and he couldn't hold it back anymore. His head fell to her shoulder, as wave over wave of ecstasy rolled through his being, and her skin muffled his cry.

Breathing heavily, Brennan clung to his body like a supple doll, and he hugged her tightly until the dizziness in his head started to settle and he dared lifting his head – meeting bright eyes and a beaming smile which meant the world to him.

"Welcome back, honey."

-BONES-

Surprisingly, the little shower adventure hadn't increased their time problem, and, true to her word – Brennan prepared a healthy pile of pancakes for Booth which he covered with a generous amount of maple syrup and butter.

Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she watched him devouring his food while picking into her own fruit salad. Still, she needed to talk to him before they would leave, but suddenly she felt insecure. Sensing that something bothered her, Booth stopped chewing and regarded her with cautious eyes.

"Everything okay, Babe?"

Taking a breath to gather her courage, she left her chair and went to her office, coming back with a little something in her hand a few moments later

"I want to give something to you."

Booth let his eyes wander to her hands and back to her face.

"A soother? Is this a subtle way to tell me that I talk too much or are we babysitting the Hodgela kids again?"

"None of this. This is," she hesitated again, "this is me telling you that... I am pregnant."

The fork fell out of his hand, and she observed his dropped jaw with anxious tension.

"Booth? _Please_... say something," she whispered, twisting the soother her hands.

"A _baby_? We are having a baby? A little _Bones baby_?"

"That is a weird term, although I'm positive that the baby will consist of bones as well."

Then he was by her side, and a heartbeat later he lifted her and whirled her around, laughing blissfully. The soother fell out of her hands, as she locked her arms around his neck.

"A baby? I'm gonna be a daddy?"

"Well, you are already a daddy..."

"And you're gonna be a mommy?"

"Since I'm carrying the child and have every intention to raise it, yes, I'm gonna be its mommy."

"Bones, _our_ baby?"

"You're the only man I have intercourse with, so that is correct as well."

"Oh, thank God!"

He kissed her, fast and urgently, and something inside of her burst in a bubble of happiness.

"So you are happy, then?" she had to ask.

"Happy? I'm over the moon. This is my dream coming true, my love. Are _you_ happy?"

Overwhelmed by emotions, she nodded wildly.

"Yes, oh, yes. I want to have your baby, Booth, so, so much."

"_A baby_..."

With a final whisper of awe he dropped onto his knees and buried his face in her belly.

"Hello, little baby. I'm your daddy, and the warm and fuzzy thing around you is your mommy."

Grinning sheepishly, Brennan tunneled her hands in his soft hair.

"You know that the baby can't hear you before the fifth month, don't you? Talking to it is quite futile at this point."

"Aw, little baby, don't listen to your mommy, sometimes she's way too rational, but I'm still working on that one."

Lifting her blouse, Booth placed feathery kissed all over her still flat belly, imagining the tiny bundle of life growing inside of her. A miracle that they had created.

Ten years.

Ten years had passed since he had first laid eyes on her in that crowded lecture hall. Between then and now he had laughed with her, argued with her, cried with her and – above everything else – he had loved with her.

Seeley Booth had loved Temperance Brennan as a partner and friend long before he had dared to see the whole truth; then he had loved her a few times with sheer desperation, and in the last years, the happiest ones, there had been warmth everywhere, a whole universe of perfect rightness, a completed puzzle. And from now on he would love her as the mother of his child as well.

Eternity... it consists of moments.

-The End-

_You are dancing around happily now? Yup, same here. You miss the development from season 6 despair to year 10 happiness? Yeah, I miss it as well, but – for now – let's have some faith in TPTB._

_That's the last year (at least for now), but don't worry, it's not over yet. Now I will go back in time and add chapters here and there. RositaLG suggested one moment for each ep – I don't know if I'm ready for that challenge, but we'll see. Maybe I'll even tell you more about the thing with Hodgins and the warm towels. I hope you savored the ride, and if you want to, stay on board. Thanks for reading, thanks for reviewing. I truly enjoy(ed) this project. _

_All my love, Ann._


	9. Additional Chapters

_It seems as if I have to post the new chapters without chronological order just behind the original series because ffnet won't let you review otherwise. What a bummer, I hate things out of order._

_Sorry for the confusion._


	10. Fifth Year: The Cold in Iceland

_I promised you that it isn't over :-) _

_I hope everybody can identify this one as the new chapter._

-ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS-

The Fifth Year: The Cold in Iceland

"_It felt so real."_

Of course he knew who she was – he just didn't know which one...

When Booth had opened his heavy eyelids, her face was just as beautiful as it had been merely seconds ago – save that she had looked delighted back then, free from worry lines and bleak fear. Back in his dream, her eyes had been open, unguarded, sparkling with love and happiness. Right now he found traces of the same affection and care in the gray blue, but it was carefully hidden behind a curtain of caution.

Oh Holy Mother, he loved her. He loved Bren, Bones, his wife, his partner... this woman looking at him with so much concern right now... but, who was she? Which one did he love?

_Who are you?_

His words had gripped her heart like a fist made of ice, slowly freezing her from the inside out. She was his partner, his friend, _his Bones_... how was it possible that he didn't recognize her? Instantly, her brain provided her with countless details about amnesia, but there was a part inside of her that didn't want to hear any facts. A part which simply refused to accept the concept that Booth could ever forget her.

For four days Brennan hadn't left her partner's side, ever since the flat line on the monitor had caused her own heart to stop as well. She had gotten him back, at least almost. Guarding his coma, she had been defenseless against the emotions that had threatened to drown her – the fear, the tenderness, the attachment.

In an attempt to rescue herself, Brennan had sought refugee in a medium that had allowed her to express her feelings without actually... expressing them. So she had written them another life, a dream, an alternate reality.

She had allowed herself to be his wife, to belong to him, hug him, kiss him with naturalness. The words had come so easily, easier than they should have, but – after all – it was just another kind of closeness.

It wasn't coincidentally that her fantasy had started in the bedroom with her coming home. Coming home in the middle of the night to a man who loved her – it was the essence of her lonely teenage dreams, the incarnation of bliss. She had to make love to Booth as well, at least in her mind. She needed to feel his big, strong body covering her own, his warm skin close to hers, and sitting next to her unconscious partner in the dim light of her computer screen, the sensations had been almost real.

Imagining this kind of intimacy with Booth hadn't been very hard either, hell, she hadn't even bothered to change their names – expect for one...

He couldn't call her "Bones"; not in this world, that was the last line which may not be crossed. Using his name for her in a fairytale would have made it too real, could have endangered the safeness of their real life bond.

"Temperance" wasn't an option either because every single time her first name left his lips on a low whisper, something inside of her did a somersault – even though those moments were rare. No, the sound of this name in his voice was too sacred to use it for a fantasy.

"Bren" on the other hand was safe, it was neutral. _Her_ Booth never called her like that. Bren was allowed to love Booth.

They had been nightclub owners. Brennan had no idea why her mind had chosen that scenario; maybe just because it was as far away from the reality as possible. Their friends had been there as well, just different versions of them.

She had written herself a baby; the baby she had asked him for just a few days ago. Brennan was an accomplished storyteller, but the pure felicity in Booth's eyes when she – veto, not "she", "Bren" – had told him about her pregnancy had taken her aback. Brennan hadn't been prepared to _feel_ that much because of her own creation, but right there she had known that she could never ever use the sperm he had donated.

Never would she defraud Booth of this moment, never would she do it to herself. If happiness like this could exist – no matter in which world – she didn't want to settle for a sad substitute.

When his eyelids had fluttered, finally opened to reveal soft brown eyes that were so dear to her, the moment crashed right into her fictional bubble, leaving her almost dazed with confusion and gratitude.

He was awake and he didn't know anything about the perfect world she had created while he was asleep. They could go back to normal.

Mourning the loss of something that had never been true mingled with the incredible relief that the real Seeley Booth was looking at her – until be parted his lips to destroy her with his words, causing her to splinter into a million fragments of something she didn't even recognize anymore.

-BONES-

It wasn't amnesia, and Brennan wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. All the while the doctor had examined him, Booth's eyes hadn't left her for one second. It felt as if he was looking straight through her, as if he could see her heart that was still so vulnerable.

Then the doctor was gone, and she was alone with her partner again. Moving her chair closer to his bed, Brennan took a seat anew.

"How are you feeling, Booth?" she finally asked.

He shrugged, and there was this lost-little-puppy look on his face.

"I don't know... everything is so strange, Bren."

Bren... it took a few seconds until realization hit her with the force of a steam train, and she had to gasp. He had called her Bren! He _knew_.

His eyes flew to her face, and he found nothing but shock in her features, her pale blue eyes wide open, her hand covering her mouth.

"Hey, you're looking as if you've seen a ghost."

A ghost? Very educated guess...

"Booth, you've have called me 'Bren'."

He had. Crap.

"Sorry, Bones, it's just... this dream felt so _real_."

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God."

"Bones?"

"People say you only live once, but people are as wrong about that, as they are about everything..." she recited on a whisper.

A sharp pant of disbelief left his mouth.

"_You_ did this? You created my dream?"

"Oh my God..."

Her head fell into her hands, and she buried her face in shame.

"Why, Bones, why?"

She shook her head in silent desperation. Then she felt warmth and pressure on her cheek as Booth tried to raise her head, to meet her eyes.

"_Please_, tell me why..."

His voice was barely audible, and Brennan knew that he deserved an answer.

"I already told you that you reacted poorly to the anesthesia." She took a deep breath, as the terror came back. 'Poorly' is somehow an understatement, though. Booth, you have been dead. For thirty seconds you have been dead, and I couldn't do anything. When your heart started to beat again, I wanted to hug you... so, so badly. Whenever you get scared, whenever I get scared, remember?"

Holding her honest gaze, he nodded.

"You fell into a coma with no chance to reassure me with a guy hug, your trademark charming smile or your warm brown eyes. I guess... I've found another way to feel close to you," she ended on a soft sigh.

"I'm so sorry, Booth, I didn't know that you listened to it. I didn't want to confuse you..."

"Don't apologize," he interrupted her curtly, and he found a spark of astonishment flashing in her eyes.

"Bones... you've created a very happy place. Of all the nightmares in this world that could have been haunting me... I'm glad that I've found your dream. It's just gonna be... hard to forget."

Bending forward until her cheek rested next to his hand on the bed, she admitted,

"I know... Booth, I have been there as well."

It was barely a movement, but his hand shifted a tad until he could caress her face.

"Please, stay with me tonight. Let's talk about it, let's mourn it."

"Like on a wake?"

"Yeah, the wake of our dream, honey."

The slip caused her chest to tighten, and she tilted her head until his palm cupped her whole cheek.

"Okay..."

-BONES-

"And Zack's face!"

Erupting in laughter, Brennan let her head fall onto Booth's shoulder. She was lying on the bed next to him, a pile of empty pudding bowls in front of them.

"But why, for God's sake, did they steal his shoes?"

"I don't know," her statement was followed by a dramatic gesture of her arms, "I suppose because the highly unlikely things could always only happen to him..."

"It was good to see him, I'm very glad you included him, Bones. He was one of a kind."

"I miss him as well."

Reaching for her hand, he gave her a comforting squeeze.

"Angela was quite dumb, though."

She was giggling again.

"Yes, I didn't do that character justice."

Silence covered them for a few moments, as the two partners were deep lost in thoughts. Finally, she spoke again.

"I don't know why I emphasized your protective streak that much, though."

Knowing exactly what she was talking about, his heart skipped a beat.

"That was me, Bones..."

Taking in her confused frown, he hurried to add,

"Every once in a while there was _something_ in my dream that didn't feel completely right. You were too reckless, or I didn't care enough, I don't know," he shrugged, "but I tried to correct it until it felt true."

"Are you saying... Do you think that you influenced my story?"

"I don't know, Bones, but does it sound so impossible? After all, we _do_ have a special connection."

Snuggling her face closer into his shoulder, Brennan simply nodded, accepting the possibility.

"Bones, you know that you are neither a cold fish nor Iceland, don't you? I'm sorry if my past actions gave you any reason to write that part."

Lifting her head, she looked at him calmly, but soon her serious facial expression was replaced by a smug grin.

"I know. I'm a volcano."

Booth chuckled softly and placed a tender kiss on her temple. Both of them froze for a second, as they noticed his third slip that night, but neither of them dared to name it. Letting go of the endearments would be the hardest thing...

"Did I write the love?" she asked in a little voice.

He silenced for a while, pondering her question and the least dangerous way to answer it.

"Hmm, maybe we both pursued our hope for love..."

As always when it came to matters of the heart, she accepted his response, filing it away in the corner of her mind that was full of Booth wisdom.

"Booth, will we be able to live with this... this _knowledge_?" she found the courage to ask, and his hold on her hand tightened.

"We have to, Bones, we have to."

Her head found its way back to his shoulder, and after a while of silence, her breathing became slow and even. Positive that she was asleep, Booth placed his free hand over her belly in a wistful gesture of affection.

"Oh, Sweetheart," he sighed, as his fingertips danced over her flat midsection in a final caress.

With eyes wide shut, Brennan lay as still as possible, helpless against the tenderness which consumed her body at his touch. Something inside of her crumbled, and for a sweet stolen moment she felt like Bren again, the woman in her dream who did have everything.

Concentrating on her respiration, Brennan thought about the offer she had just gotten a few days ago. Guatemala...

Not being a fool, she was fully aware that joining that dig equaled fleeing, but right now she didn't care.

Sometimes you have to go away... to be able to come back.

To be continued...


	11. First Year: The Fourth of July Fiasco

_Once again, sorry for the confusing order. Once I've finished this story – whenever that will be because right now I'm just enjoying it too much – I will go back and rearrange the chapters, but until then every other possibility of posting is just too confusing because it is too hard to find the new chapters, and you won't be allowed to review new chapter 2 if you've already reviewed old chapter 2 – and I love your reviews too much to miss that chance..._

_Remember the famous Fourth of July Fiasco Brennan hinted at in "The Man in the Fallout Shelter"?_

The First Year: The Fourth of July Fiasco

"_Is that pure alcohol?"_

"That is a very good punch," Angela Montenegro, forensic artist, stated with a nod towards the glass in her hand.

"I'm not so sure about this."

Temperance Brennan ogled the rosy brew suspiciously.

"Something is odd. It seems to me as if the concentration of alcohol is significantly higher than it should be."

"Well, I spotted Hodgins with an Erlenmeyer flask earlier tonight," Angela smirked. "Ah, the fringe benefits of having a well-equipped lab."

"Are you implying that Doctor Hodgins spiked the official Jeffersonian Fourth of July bowl?"

"I hope so, Sweetie, I hope so."

"I'm not positive that this is a good idea," Brennan frowned.

"Trust me, Brenn, this is a very good idea. Everyone will open up a little. Scientists can be so reticent and boring."

"Still..."

Linking arms with her friend, Angela simply interrupted her.

"Come on, let's go slumming."

"I don't know what that means," came the automatic reply.

"Mingle with the crowd, Brenn. It seems as if there are some hot guys in the paleontology department. And no," the artist cut of the likeliest answer, "I don't mean that they have increased body temperature."

"I am not that clueless, Ange," Brennan answered, rolling her eyes.

This time Angela found it wise to keep her mouth shut.

"Sweetie, by the way, Agent Sexy has called again."

"His name is Agent Booth," Brennan almost spat out the words, "and he is _not_ sexy."

"No, Brennan, don't be unfair just because he pissed you off. Your agent is smoking hot."

"He is not _my_ agent."

"Considering his fairly frequent calls, I'd say he wants to be. Why can't we work with him again? I've reconstructed Mayan faces for ages."

"We cannot work with him because he is infuriating, smug and overly self-assertive. Plus, he said some very mean things to me the last time I saw him."

"You've slapped him. Shouldn't that be punishment enough?"

"Not anywhere near enough. He insulted me and he annoys me. I will never ever speak to this man again."

Brennan thought about Agent Seeley Booth for a moment. He was indeed a very good-looking man, and she had even caught herself at responding to his cocky charm; maybe just a tad too much. No, it was safer this way, being around him was just too confusing for her state of mind.

Determined to distract her friend from the topic, Brennan gestured at the already half-empty punchbowl.

"Let's have another drink, Ange."

-BONES-

"Chérie, I told you months ago to rehire the Jeffersonian, why has nothing happened so far?"

Caroline Julian, federal prosecutor and one strenuous exemplar of a woman, regarded the agent in front of her with growing frustration. How hard could it be to handle some scientists?

Outstretching his arms in a gesture of helplessness, Seeley Booth leaned back in his chair.

"I tried, I really tried. This _woman_ refuses to speak to me."

"What exactly did you do to piss her off?"

'I kissed her. I called her a cold fish. I told her to get a soul.'

"Uh, nothing. Really!"

"Well, Chérie, then try again. Send her flowers, fall onto your knees – I don't care, but rehire this people. As soon as possible."

Sighing in defeat, Booth nodded.

"I'll speak to her." If she lets me...

When it came to Dr. Temperance Brennan, Seeley Booth was at his wits' end. Never before had he met a woman so stubborn, nerve-racking and extraordinary. He wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss or punch her – maybe both. Yeah, perhaps he had overstepped his boundaries, had yelled at her one time too much, but somehow she stirred dark passion deep inside of him he couldn't quite control.

And besides, it wasn't as if she hadn't yelled back – hell, she had even slapped him. For a woman who looked as delicate as this bone lady, she had hit him pretty hard.

However, it seemed as if there was no way out and he really needed to try once more to rehire this woman and her crazy squad. Groaning in disapproval, Booth decided to drive to the Jeffersonian.

-BONES-

The halls of the Medico-Legal Lab were awfully quiet, when Booth set foot on them half an hour later.

From afar he could hear voices, and guided by those sound, he made his way through the dark lab.

It seemed to be a song, one that sounded vaguely familiar.

_Oh no, not I; I will survive, for as long as i know how to love I know I'll stay alive. I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give and I'll survive..._

That was odd. Booth scratched his head in a gesture full of puzzlement. And besides, wasn't that song normally interpreted by a woman? However, the sonorous voice rumbling it right now seemed to be definitely male. Very weird.

Turning around the corner, the singing got significantly louder, and then Booth stopped, and his eyes got the size of saucers.

Terms like "odd" and "weird" didn't do it any justice. Well, there was a party going on, this much was for certain, and somebody seemed to have taken special trouble to decorate the room with little star-spangled banners. Anyway, Booth was convinced that the performance he could witness right now hadn't been part of the official program.

On a table in the middle of the room stood an Afro-American man who could have looked quite impressive if he hadn't sported a woman's bra over his shirt right now. He was holding a micro in his hand and delivered the lyrics of "I will survive" on the top of his lungs.

Well, Dr. Goodman seemed to be one very laid-back boss, Booth decided, as he saw the man closing his eyes and wiggling his ass.

The cheering of women caused his head to turn, and the agent had to rub his eyes, as he recognized Temperance Brennan. He had most definitely not expected to see her that loose... and was she removing her bra from under her shirt right now?

Oh, God, she was, Booth realized with strange shivers rolling through his body. How could he possibly be turned on by this sight? Realizing that this was the wrong time to talk to her, he knew that he should probably leave before things in front of him would spiral completely out of control – however, like a deer in the headlight he stood and watched, as Brennan threw a bra that looked as if it was made out of midnight-blue sin in the direction of her boss, hitting his head which elicited more cheer from the women surrounding her.

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, Boot finally managed to walk away.

No way he would ever enter this looney bin again.

To be continued...


	12. Fifth Year: Sleepless in DC

_For those of you who think that "Fire in the Ice" ended way too early._

The Fifth Year: Sleepless in DC

"_I'm never gonna make you fall. I'm always here"_

"What do we do now?"

Brennan was sitting on a bench near the ice rink, tying up her shoes. Her cheeks possessed an adorably rosy glow, and Booth didn't know if it was because of the cold or the unfamiliar exercise, but it looked kind of cute on her.

"It's barely midnight, and you have to stay up all night long."

"Well, let's just roam the streets for a while," Booth suggested.

He jumped to his feet with vigor, but immediately a strange dizziness surprised him, and he stumbled. A quick, fearful heartbeat later he could feel her arms wrapped around him, and with honest gratitude he leaned against his partner. Then the world stopped swaying, and he opened his eyes to her worried face. She was so close that he could smell her – it was a scent that reminded him of childhood winter days full of laughter, smoking chimneys and cinnamon.

"Booth, I get nervous when you do that. Maybe we should go back to the hospital?"

He shook his head in dismissal.

"No, Bones, you heard the doctor. Dizziness is a normal symptom. I just got up too quick."

"You were unconsciousness for a few minutes, and then you called Wendell 'Bones'. But that's _me_."

Chuckling, he rubbed his hand over her back. Somehow it gave him a ridiculous kick when she called herself by his name for her, the one that used to annoy her so much in the beginning.

"I know that you are 'Bones', and if I ever get confused again, I'll remember this new friend of mine."

With a devilish smile he tugged at the bobble of her red knitted hat, and she pouted.

"Are you insulting my hat, Booth? Because this is a very good hat, pretty warm and made out of organic cotton."

"Potato, potaeto."

"I don't know what a crop from the Solanaceae family has to do with this."

"The _what_?"

She nudged his shoulder with her own.

"See! Now you're the one who doesn't know what that means. Ha!"

"You set me up?" he asked incredulously.

"I believe I did," she answered with a beaming smile, and pride was written all over her face.

Booth decided to let her have this one, after all, seeing her smile was so much better than winning an argument. Having regained full trust in his legs, he let go of her arms, grabbed their ice skates and pointed at the exit.

"Let's go, Bones."

She followed him with a nod, but all the while she observed him carefully. He had freaked the shit out of her when he had fallen on the ice earlier that day, and Brennan was incredibly glad that Booth had simply assumed that she would spend this sleepless night with him. Not that she would have left him at all, but he didn't need to know that. She would have found an excuse to stay with him tonight in any case, but it was easier that he had just counted on it.

Of late, there was an aching-sweet closeness between the two of them. Grabbing his arm, nudging his shoulder felt more than natural, and all too often Brennan found him standing way too close to her. However, what troubled her most where the times when she realized that he had invaded her personal space after he had already left. She wondered how often she didn't notice it at all.

Ever since the undercover circus case, there was an unspoken something in their looks. They had been close, so close to erasing the final line, and both of them knew it. Both of them tried not to think about it, not to mention it.

One might assume that a depressing mixture of regret and sadness would cover the two partners like a dark blanket – after all, something great had almost happened – but neither Booth nor Brennan felt blue.

They were just... _closer_ somehow.

When he wasn't coming over with Thai Food in the evenings, she showed up at his door with a movie. These days they sought each others company with almost magnetic-like attraction. She had stopped dating; he had stopped thinking about other women.

They were just... _plain comfortable_ around each other.

And if she fell asleep during their movie nights with her head on his shoulder every once in a while, if he covered her with a blanket and wrapped his arm around her – it could count as tender affection between two friends.

Of course that was somehow only half of the story, but it was the half Booth and Brennan could understand, the safe one that didn't threaten everything they had and were.

-BONES-

2 am that night found Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan walking arm in arm through the illuminated city night. Neon signs, streetlamps and the spotlights surrounding DC's monuments had long since won the fight against the moon and the stars above them, Mother Nature's very own night-time illumination.

Nevertheless, Brennan tilted her head back, looking up at the sky.

"It never gets dark enough in the city to actually see the celestial bodies," she murmured.

Mimicking her movement, Booth regarded the firmament as well, and with neither of them looking straightforward anymore, they tripped. He managed to catch her arm before they would end up on the ground, and both of them had to laugh.

"See, I told you I'm never gonna let you fall," he repeated his former line with a soft smile.

"Well, you already _let_ me fall twice today," she smiled right back.

"Nope, that wasn't my fault, you skated right into me and made _me_ fall."

"Okay. Truce," she admitted.

"Ah, Bones, but you're right about the sky. There's just too much light around here. One day I'll take you to the desert at night and show you a real sky. One that will blow your mind."

"I've already seen the desert starry sky, so that would be nothing new, Booth," she stated in her typical blunt manner, but he shook his head.

"I would be there with you. _Big difference_, Bones."

"I highly doubt that the stars will shine brighter with you around."

"Oh, fucking yes, they will."

The sincere and husky tone in his voice forced her head to fling around, and for a moment she was captured by the intense longing in his dark eyes. She shivered and blinked.

"Ahem..."

Silence settled over them, as the two partners resumed their walking, facing the velvety hours between dusk and dawn with their heartwarming bond of bubbling rightness waving between them. And, Brennan had to admit, maybe the stars would sparkle a tad more just because of the two of them together.

With Booth next to her, walking seemed to be somewhat easier – and not only literally speaking – but... every now and then... out of the clear blue sky something ignited between them, reminding the two of them that the whole is always more than the sum of its parts, and that somewhere deep down there was the other half, the one the two of them still ignored.

-BONES-

4 am. He was holding a huge fluff of cotton candy in his hand, an expression of child-like delight covering his face. Brennan watched her partner with a bemused grin.

"I cannot believe that you actually managed to get cotton candy at this time of the night."

His irrational craving had started somewhere around 3 am, and it had taken them an hour to find an around-the-clock supermarket which sold the desired candy.

"The sugar is good for me, it prevents falling asleep," Booth stated with utter conviction.

"Whatever you say..."

Her reply was cut off by a heartfelt yawn, and Booth watched her with an affectionate smile. Brennan looked exhausted, her eyes were slightly red-rimmed, but there was a content glow radiating from her.

"You wanna go home, Bones?"

"And leave you to your fate? No way. Do you wanna get rid of me?"

Bumping her with his hip, he reassured her,

"Not at all. You're the second best thing tonight."

She looked up at him with curious eyes.

"The second best?"

"Yup," he nodded on a smile, "best one is the cotton candy, of course."

She burst out in laughter, but it turned into another yawn soon after.

"Maybe you should eat something as well. The sugar high might keep you awake."

He almost pushed the cotton candy into her face, but she managed to duck.

"I think I'm still quite full from the waffles we had around 1 am."

Ignoring her, Booth plucked a generous amount of the sugary treat with his fingers and approached her lips.

"Open up, Bones," he tried to lure her, but she shook her head, lips carefully closed.

"Don't you trust me?"

Changing tack, Booth gave her his special charming smile and tilted his head until he could meet her well-known eyes. Chocolate brown orbs were beaming at her with innocent glee.

She melted like ice in the sunshine, but she couldn't help it, and her mouth opened on a sigh, accepting the inevitable.

Then his sticky fingers touched her lips, and with eyes closed, she ate the offered candy from them.

'Well, not that bad,' Brennan mused, and soon his hand came back with another serving. This time she didn't hesitate, she even closed her lips around his finger and – without thinking twice – sucked it into her mouth. Hmm... her tongue swirled around his phalanges until the last residues of the candy had been removed and all she could taste was pure and male and touchingly familiar.

His throaty hum startled her, and the instant her eyes snapped open, she realized what she was doing. Frozen in the movement, she was falling into his eyes.

Her mouth was warm, his finger sugary, the moment sweet.

Booth almost felt like laughing at her blue eyes wide open in astonishment, but sheer sensuality tightened his throat for a few heartbeats.

Very slowly, he pulled his finger out of her tempting mouth, brushing his thumb over a sticky spot on her silky bottom lip before dropping his hand.

"Hi," he smiled, lost for words.

"Hi, as well."

Her voice was a little breathless, as her heart was running away with her brain, leaving her behind grounded in the moment.

Eventually, he blinked and released her gaze. A smirk played around his full lips, and he arched an eyebrow.

"You awake now?"

-BONES-

6.45 am found the two partners sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, each of them holding a cup of coffee.

She had stopped yawning some hours ago, he had stopped feeling dizzy. Sleep deprivation was wearing them out, but the silence stretching between the two partners was comfortable. Sipping his coffee, Booth leaned back on the steps.

Given the fact that the whole purpose of the night had been helping him with a concussion, Booth felt pretty close to perfect. This had been one of the best nights of his whole life, and the weirdest thing was that none of the stuff had happened that usually make a night unforgettable.

They had just laughed and talked and walked, but somehow her simple presence had turned it into something special.

"Bones?"

"Yeah?"

She met his gaze with a drowsy shimmer in her blue orbs, and he chuckled at her sleepy cuteness.

"Spending the night with you is pretty epic."

Her laughter pearled into the rosy twilight.

"You are not so bad yourself, Booth. I cannot remember the last time a man had kept me awake all night long."

Joining in her laughter, he turned his head again to watch the unfolding sunset in front of them. The sky was bathed in little rainbows of red, violet and yellow, and somewhere afar a bird was enticing the sun with its morning song. Obeying the call, it finally appeared on the horizon – a burning ball made of light and beauty.

Letting go of a sigh, Booth tilted his head one more time to look at his partner. Brennan lolled in the first daylight, her eyelids closed. Tiny speckles of gold were dancing on her skin, glistening in her silky, mahogany hair, caressing her porcelain face, and suddenly he had to think of a poem of Byron he had learned at school so many years ago.

_She walks in beauty, like the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
And all that's best of dark and bright  
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:  
Thus mellowed to that tender light  
Which heaven to gaudy day denies. _

Remembering the last hours, Booth thought that every single line of this could be applied to her. However... seeing her face caressed by the first sun rays of the fresh morning surpassed her night-like beauty tenfold. She was a person of light.

'Oh, my,' Booth rolled his eyes at his own mushiness. It seemed as if twenty-four hours without sleep plus a concussion could turn him into a sentimental fool. Nonetheless – he dared another quick glance – she was truly beautiful.

"Bones?"

"Yes?"

When she opened her dazed eyes, Booth knew that he would lose her to her bed very soon, and reason swallowed the confession he was about to make.

"Come on, I'll bring you home. You look like sleep."

Lifting herself to her feet, Brennan staggered slightly.

"That doesn't make any sense, one cannot look like sleep."

Grinning, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close, and while they walked into the sunset, Booth thought that he had lied to her earlier.

She had been the best thing tonight.

Without competition.

-BONES-

_Okay, mushiness got the best of me._


	13. Sixth Year: The Ends of the World

The Sixth Year: The Ends of the World

"_I taught you about eye contact, you taught me about evolution. So... here's to change."_

Wrapping the hoarder case up had left them in a bittersweet mood, and not only because of the particularly sad nature of the murder. It had been their last case. Will be for at least year.

Tomorrow Brennan would step onto a plane to Jakarta, and from there she would go to the Maluku Islands. Booth had to look up the location on a map, but in the end there was only one fact really important: It was bloody far away.

A week later he would leave as well to spend the next year in Afghanistan. Training soldiers, trying to forget her. Forget the way her dark hair shimmered in the light; how she had tasted and felt in his arms. Her throaty laughter, the universe in her blue eyes. All those little details about Temperance Brennan that were engraved into his heart – the hot desert sun would hopefully burn them away, erase them, cleanse him.

And maybe he would come back with a healed heart and could love her again with innocence. As her friend and partner. Nothing more.

And maybe hell would freeze...

Everything had gone so terribly wrong. Only a few months ago his whole life had centered around her – she had been his touchstone, his laughter, his light. She had been easy meals at the Diner, drinks at the Founding Fathers, movies at night, falling asleep on the couch. A slender hand in his own, a warm body in his arms, a sunny laughter in his ears.

They had been so damned close. Too close or not close enough, Booth didn't really know which one was nearer to the truth. It the end it didn't matter, though, because they had fallen hard, and it had hurt. Awfully.

Ever since he had told her that he would have to move on, ever since he had tried to make a few experimental steps away from her, his life felt like a disconnected disaster. There were still moments when they slipped back into their old easiness, when her eyes opened up under his look, surrounding him with sweet warmth, but they were rare and usually followed by a sting of pain.

He had told her that she was his standard... how are you supposed to change such a fundamental thing? Booth didn't know; all he knew was that he – somehow – had to.

-BONES-

Brennan had nightmares.

The ones that leave you with cold sweat and bleak terror in tangled sheets. The ones that threatened the most important thing in her life. Rationally speaking, there was no certainty that being away from Booth would stop those dreams, but an irrational part inside of her told her that distance was necessary.

Not being good at listening to gut feelings, she didn't know if the voice speaking inside of her was one of wisdom or one of fear. However, even aside from the nightmares, going to Maluku seemed to be a good idea. Temperance Brennan was one of the best in the field of forensic anthropology and she had to maintain a reputation. She _had to_ accept an offer like this. She _needed_ to be part of the expedition.

To sum it up, she knew that she had to go, she knew it on so many levels, but, nevertheless, it felt as if she was leaving an important part of herself behind. Who would she be if she wasn't his Bones anymore?

She had been Joy for the first years of her life, when she had been guarded and cradled by a loving family. She had been Temperance afterwards, Tempe sometimes. Tempe was the one who had been abandoned, the one with the smile-less eyes who didn't have a home, couldn't make friends. Science had saved her, and she had become Dr. Temperance Brennan. The forensic anthropologist was successful, strong and independent. Some people had been able to see through this, had befriended Brennan or Brenn. Then Seeley Booth had invaded her life together with his overwhelming male presence, his cocky grin, and Bones had been born.

Out of all the persons she had ever been in her life, Bones was the dearest to her. The one who could allow herself a few glimpses of warmth, happiness and even a trace of love.

Who would she be without Booth?

Could she find back to Dr. Temperance Brennan? Or was there someone new looming on the horizon?

-BONES-

Later that evening all her bags were packed, and she was ready to go, when a knock on her door cut into the silence. Clad in nothing more than cozy yoga pants and a pale pink sweater, her hair in a messy ponytail, Brennan answered the door. Booth. He was wearing jeans, a simple T-shirt and a sad smile. It had been a while since he had come over in the evening, and a dull ache was throbbing inside of her at the sight of him.

She opened the door in silent invitation, and he stepped into her apartment, heading straight to her couch.

"Beer?"

A few hours before her departure her fridge was almost empty, but she usually had a few bottles of his favorite brand in stock. Old habits...

He declined with a shake of his head.

"No, not tonight. I'm not gonna stay that long, I just... wanted to say goodbye. Properly."

Her eyes flew to his face.

"You aren't coming to the airport tomorrow?"

He shrugged.

"Dunno. I might not get permission to leave the base. Besides, the whole squint squad would be watching us like a romantic chick flick without happy ending."

For once in her life Brennan knew exactly what he was talking about, but she tried to reassure him.

"Booth... it's not the end, it's only a year. We will come back, will work with each other again, won't we?"

Shrugging once more, Booth shielded his eyes from her.

"Things will change. Maybe too much for us to adjust to."

"Booth..."

Her voice was barely audible, and it tugged at his heart with fierce. How could something so soft cause so much pain?

Anger was building inside of him, and finally the cork popped out, and he yelled,

"Why are you leaving, Temperance? Why are you doing this to us? You are destroying me, this, _us_, for God's sake! What we have is something special, and you're throwing it away! _Why_? Please, just tell me _why_?"

His desperate voice hit her like a knife, and before she had the chance to process an answer, Brennan surprised herself by bursting out in tears. His rage puffed out like air out of a needle-stung balloon, and he reached out to her, pulling her in his arms.

"Please... why?" he whispered while he rocked her, and she sobbed against his shoulder.

"I have nightmares, Booth," she finally managed to say between hiccups. "You are drowning, and I cannot help you. I'm afraid that something might happen to you... every single day... I cannot sleep anymore. I have to think about you... always... and then you're dying again. And I feel like dying as well. I don't know what that means. I just cannot stand it anymore. I... I need to clear my head somehow, get rid of this dark place inside of me."

He sat silent for a while, the rustling of clothes were he drew soothing circles on her back was the only sound in the room. Eventually, he found words to say.

"Did it ever occur to you that I could have helped you? Saved you from this? Or was fleeing your sole option?"

She went rigid in his arms, but he didn't stop his caresses.

"I don't know how I can get any closer to you than I already am," she whispered. "Sometimes I feel as if I'm running through a maze, but every time I can see light, I end up hitting another dead end. I just don't know how to get out of this."

"You know that there is nothing in this world that I would not do to help you, don't you?" he asked in a husky tone.

She nodded, thinking about her own failure regarding the very same promise.

"Temperance, I... I love you."

Lifting her head, she looked at him through glistening tears.

"In an atta-girl kind of way, I know..."

Her big blue eyes pleaded him not to break her, and so he nodded slowly.

"Yeah, right." And so much more.

Letting go of a relieved breath, she snuggled back into his arms, inhaling his achingly familiar scent, feeling his lips on her hair. Brennan would miss Booth, so terribly, and no matter how much she didn't want to go – she simply didn't know how to stay.

When the seconds stretched into minutes, she could finally feel him moving, loosening his hold on her, and every single cell in her body protested against the prospect of saying goodbye to this man.

"Booth, someplace deep down, you know that I love you as well, don't you?" she asked on a whisper, her face safely buried in the crook of his neck.

"Yeah, I know. But... it's _too_ deep down. And all around there is nothing but fear; fear that is eating you alive and killing me."

She started to cry at his words, and it sounded as defenseless as a little kitten meowing for its mother. He wrapped her trembling body tighter into his embrace.

"I... I can't do this anymore. I can't be so close to you but never close enough. You're burning me with your ice-cold kind of love, honey."

"Oh, God, I know..."

Booth shifted her in his arms so that he could look into her eyes. Cupping her face with his big palms, he felt the wetness on her flushed cheeks, and then he closed the distance to her until their foreheads touched. Her sweet breath was caressing his lips, and the realization that this was as close as he would ever get to her tore his crazy heart apart.

"I know that I have said this before and that I have pretty much sucked at it so far, but, Temperance, I _have_ to move on. I need to be happy – for my son, for my own sanity. There is nothing in this world that I wish more than being happy with you, but you won't let me. I don't know what to do anymore, how to convince you... _I just don't know_..."

His voice broke, and then he was crying heavy tears of despair which dampened her hair, causing the silky locks to uncurl in sadness.

Very slowly, her arms came around him, cradling his head in her hands, and his tears mingled with her own. His cheek felt hot and stubbly pressed to her soft one, but she welcomed the rough sensation; it mirrored the rawness inside of her.

"I'm so sorry, Booth. I wish things were different, but I am who I am... I can't love you the way you deserve it... as much as I want to," she whispered in a hoarse voice.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to control his breakdown, tried to regain his composure, tried to tear himself away from her.

"Tomorrow, Temperance," he placed a feathery kiss on her temple, "tomorrow we're saying goodbye to each other for a year. And then things have to change."

"Will I," her voice failed again, "will I still be your Bones?"

His hold on her tightened until he almost crushed her.

"Always, Bones, always."

To be continued...

_Sorry for crushing your hearts... Next one will be nothing but smut :-)_


	14. Tenth Year: The Thing with the Towels

_Because every once in a while... every once in a while it has to be M. Blame it on their spark ;-)_

The Tenth Year: The Thing with the Towels

"_He called me Baby, Baby, all night long."_

Two weeks, for two annoying weeks the bug man had started to preheat every piece of cloth he could find whenever he had spotted Booth. Once he had even set a towel on fire. Just because of one stupid slip.

Yeah, Booth admitted it, he liked his towels warm and fuzzy. Did that make him sissyish? Hell, no! He wasn't the one running around with baby puke on his shirt all day long, the one purring lullabies into the phone around lunchtime every single day.

Still, the moment Brennan had thrown in the fact that Booth loved to prewarm his towels before taking a shower, he had instantly known that he'd have to atone for that from now on.

Only a not so subtle gesture with his gun, followed by the threat that he would never ever babysit his lovely brat again had finally resulted in the desired effect, and Hodgins had promised to drop the towel incident.

Thank God.

However, Booth was still pissed, especially when he found out that the anecdote had made its way through the grapevine to the FBI as well.

Someone would pay for it tonight – and this someone was not a curly-haired entomologist, but a long-legged brunette who used to share his bed. What a lucky coincidence.

When he and Brennan had finally decided to pursue a romantic relationship with every consequence, he had known that she wasn't an expert in this field, hell, it had taken him months to convince her that she was just everything that he wanted and that she made him incredibly happy.

Anyways, it seemed as if she really needed to learn a thing or two about details that better stay private. He loved this woman like a stupid fool, and she stirred passion deep inside of him he hadn't known so far, and all the craziness added to his generally big heart made him one very lovestruck guy these days. Still, tonight, she would learn her lesson.

-BONES-

When Temperance Brennan opened her apartment door this night, he was already at home, awaiting her calmly at their dining table, two dishes of pasta and two glasses of wine in front of him. Wonderful, a decent meal and some cuddling was exactly what she needed after the stressful day.

"Hi, Babe. That looks delicious."

Blowing a kiss in his direction, she put off her coat, slipped out of her shoes and padded towards him. When she bent over to kiss him hello, she thought that he was uncharacteristically still and quiet tonight.

Frowning, she regarded him, and then her gaze fell to a flimsy something lying next to him on the table. One of her silky scarfs. Very odd.

"Is everything okay, Booth?"

Without saying a word, he grabbed her head and pulled her down for a quick kiss that left her breathless.

"Nope, my love," he finally said, releasing her. "We have to talk. Sit down."

He nodded at the chair next to him, and, tentatively, she took a seat.

For a moment cold fear tugged at her heart. Booth wanted to talk? Was this the moment where everything would fall apart, where he would tell her that he had made a mistake, that she, Brennan, wasn't the one he really wanted?

Sensing her insecurity, Booth gave her a candid and reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, Bones, you're the love of my life, you make me happier than I've ever been, and you're just plain wonderful. Okay?"

Exhaling on a smile of relief, she nodded.

"That said, we have to talk. About _us_ and _ours_."

"Okay..."

"Today I found a heating pad in my office."

The silence that followed was meaningful, and he gave her a moment to catch up with him.

"The towel thing? Again?" she whispered with big eyes.

"Damn right."

"Booth, I already apologized for telling Hodgins about it."

"I know, but within the last two weeks I've been humiliated and teased because of that slip of yours over and over again, and now the bureau knows. Tonight, I demand revenge."

"Revenge?" she asked in a low voice.

"Exactly. I want you to do two things for me."

"I can't possibly agree until I have full knowledge of those two things."

"No, Bones, I'm not asking you, I'm telling you to do so," he challenged her in a dark voice, and she felt a strange shiver of excitement crawling down her spine.

"Do I have your attention?"

She nodded, looking at him with wide blue eyes. This was new.

"Good. First thing: Tomorrow you'll pick me up from my office, wearing that black dress of yours and the fuck-me-heels, you get me?"

He awaited another nod before he continued.

"Then you'll kiss the hell out of me in front of everyone. That should stop any debate about my masculinity, okay?"

"I can do that, I suppose."

Such a public display of affection wasn't her usual style, but after all, Brennan accepted that he seemed to suffer a lot because of her mistake.

"And the second thing?" she asked breathlessly, and Booth leaned back with a smirk.

"Yeah, that's the really good part. Tonight you are going to give up every ounce of control, be at my will."

"Your will?"

"You heard me, Babe. After we have eaten this wonderful meal I've prepared – which is probably cold by now – we will move to our comfortable bedroom where I will tie you up and play with you_ all night long_."

The last part came on a sharp whisper which elicited a gasp from her.

"Play until you beg me to stop because you have learned your lesson."

"Booth..."

"Nope, don't 'Booth me', Temperance. Tonight you're mine."

"But I'm yours every night," she had to add because it was the truth.

"Not like this. Tonight you will burn."

More shivers rolled down her spine, ending in her panties in a rush of dampness.

"Booth," she tried again, but he cut her off.

"I know that I'm asking for a lot, but this is not about pleasing you. This is revenge, Babe. Sweet, hot revenge."

Regarding her vulnerable face, Booth was unsure if he had gambled too high, and he was only heartbeats away from pulling her into his arms, telling her that it had just been a joke, but suddenly something in her expression changed, and she squared her shoulders.

"I accept the punishment."

At her words a streak of heat rolled through his body, and he cleared his throat.

"Great. Now, eat."

Letting her gaze wander to the plate in front of her and back to his face, she bent over and pursed her lips.

"You don't wanna feed me or something like that?"

A laughter of surprise left his lips. Leave it to Temperance Brennan to accept a challenge and raise the bar. Outstretching his hand, he stroked her cheek tenderly.

"Nope, I'm not a perv," he smirked.

Joining in his laughter, she took her fork and started to pick into her noodles. This promised to be an _interesting_ night.

-BONES-

"What now?"

Pushing away her empty plate, Brennan leaned back in her chair, playing with the wine glass in her hand.

"Patience, Honey. Take another sip, you might need it."

Raising the glass to her mouth in agonizing slow motion, Brennan licked her lips, her eyes never leaving his. He saw her throat moving, as she swallowed, and then her head fell back, exposing creamy skin to his gaze.

Booth groaned. This was supposed to be his game, but, as always, he had found his perfect counterpart in her.

"Stand up," he commanded.

Taken by surprise for one moment, Brennan blinked, but obeyed shortly after.

Smoothing her skirt in a sensual move, she asked,

"Shall I perform a striptease for you?"

Tempting, very tempting, but he shook his head.

"Nope, no show this time. You're not allowed to hide behind that tonight."

Once more he saw something like insecurity flicker through her eyes, but then she nodded.

"Blouse and bra first. Show me your breasts."

Taking a deep breath, Brennan stood still while her delicate fingers started to unbutton her striped blouse. With a shrug of her shoulders, she let the piece of garment slide down her arms, leaving behind goosebumps on her flawless skin.

Booth remained silent for a few minutes and enjoyed the view. Her full breasts stood high and proud, cupped by white lace. Oh, yes. Finally, he nodded.

"Go on."

Bringing her arms behind her back, she undid the clasp with deft fingers, and the bra fell down, leaving her bare from her waist upwards. Her sensitive buds tightened under his intense stare, and Booth felt himself responding to the sight of his woman. The one he loved. The one he desired. The one he was going to play with tonight.

He loved her breasts. The perfect feeling of the firm roundness of them in his palms, the gasps she made when he sucked hard at her taut nipples, the shadowy, dusky tone of her areolas.

"Touch yourself."

Standing in front of her partner like this, Brennan felt very naked, but she gathered her courage and brought her hands to her chest. This was Booth. She was safe.

After all this time with him, Brennan knew that he was a goner for her breasts. However, what _he_ didn't know was that _she_ loved them as well. She truly enjoyed the touch of her own hands on the soft globes and the sensation, when a twist of her thumb caused her peaks to bud. She didn't know if she was ready to share this secret with him, but when she massaged the tender flesh with her fingers, a rosy flush spread from her chest to her cheeks, and a little moan left her lips on its own will.

His eyes snapped to her face.

"You like this, don't you?" he realized with sudden clarity, and it turned him on beyond belief.

Avoiding his gaze, she finally nodded and squeezed just a tad harder.

"Wow... that is so hot..."

Lifting her gaze, she was almost burned by the desire that sparkled in his dark depths.

"Take off your panties, but leave on the skirt," he finally demanded.

With unsteady fingers, Brennan bent down and removed the desired garment.

"Give them to me."

The blush deepened, but she handed him the damp piece of silk nonetheless, and he twisted it in his fingers.

"This turns you on?"

She swayed her head and shrugged adorably.

"You know that you are allowed to speak, don't you?"

A nod was his answer.

"Fine, then do so. Tell me what you like about this."

Brennan opened her mouth and closed it again.

"I," she tried it another time, "I love you."

Shaking his head, Booth smiled.

"Nice try, Babe, but that was not the question. What do you like?"

"I like... your voice," she whispered.

"You like me telling you what to do?"

A light nod, barely visible.

"And it confuses you?"

"I've never done this before, Booth."

Something inside of him softened.

"Me, neither, Temperance. But I really like doing it to you. Now, touch yourself again."

Automatically, she lifted her hands back to her breasts, but he stilled her with a shake of his head.

"No, not there."

"Oh..."

Taking one more breath, Brennan spread her legs just a few inches and brought her hands under her skirt. She was greeted by wet warmth, and her core throbbed hungrily at her touch. Temperance Brennan wasn't prude, and touching herself was nothing she was ashamed of, but doing it in front of her fully clothed partner was a whole different story.

"You know that this would be easier without the skirt on?" she had to ask, and he smirked.

"I know, and we will definitely come to that, but this fuels my imagination. Tell me what you feel."

"Well, in response to sexual arousal my vaginal fluids-"

"Nope," he cut her off, "no squinty talk tonight. Tell me what _you_ feel."

The dark tone is his voice weakened her knees for a moment, but she could regain her composure.

"I feel... warmth."

He encouraged her to go on.

"And dampness. My muscles tighten around my fingers. I... I want you inside of me. I feel longing and desire and weakness. Something inside of me is pulsating."

Closing her eyes, she let her head fell back, and Booth had to sigh at the sight of her. She was so damn erotic, and right now at least one part of his body protested vehemently against his plans for the night. He exhaled on a shudder.

"That was very good. Now remove your skirt."

With fleeing fingers, she lowered the zipper, and said garment fell to the floor, leaving her completely naked. Like he wanted it.

His gaze caressed her flat belly, her slightly rounded hips and fell to the darker triangle of short curls between her legs. Booth knew what she looked like – hell, he could paint her with eyes closed – but every freaking single time her unmasked beauty took his breath away. He was in awe of her, of her phalanges, polished toenails, never-ending legs, soft breasts, elegant face, rosy lips, deep blue eyes, silky dark hair... he could go on forever, but this very intimate part of her was one he loved with special tenderness. After all, it had taken him years to finally see her like this. And now he had every right in the world to study her.

"Perfect," he murmured, and she bowed her head.

Even after all the times he had already seen her like this, the pure adoration on his face was sometimes too much to believe. Her chest expanded, and she felt truly... beautiful.

"Come to me."

She followed his outstretched arm and the call of his voice without hesitation. Taking her hand, Booth drew her onto his lap, enjoying her naked body on top of his clothed one, and for the first time since this had started, he kissed her.

Hard.

Tangling one hand in her hair, he pulled her head down, and without finesse, he pushed his tongue into her mouth. Surprise and arousal resulted in a breathless moan, and he drank it from her. His tongue was dueling with hers, and his free hand roamed down her bare back, tracing her spine until he felt the curve of her buttocks.

Brennan was on fire. Her whole body was humming, vibrating, and, pressing herself closer into his impressive form, she tried to grind against the hard, hot bulge she could feel underneath her. At least she wasn't the only one affected by this.

He released her lips with a last suction, and her dazed head fell to his shoulder.

Movement indicated that he had lifted himself from his chair, and Brennan wrapped herself securely around his body, as he carried her into their bedroom. A few moments later, she found herself on the mattress, and he was gone again.

"Booth?"

"I'm right here."

He came back with a candle, a glass of wine and the silky scarf in his hands. For a moment his solid frame was lingering in the doorway, and her heart flew to him. Just because she loved plain everything about this man didn't mean that she couldn't react to his mere sexiness as well. Seeley Booth was hot and handsome and sensual, and above everything else, he was hers.

These days, possessive pronouns didn't scare her anymore, and Brennan tasted the word on her tongue with utter satisfaction.

'Mine.'

He moved like a predator, swiftly and fluidly, placing the candle on the nightstand before approaching her. Cradling her head in one big palm, he brought the wine glass to her lips.

"Drink, Honey."

After she had taken a sip, he drank as well, swallowing hard. Then he twisted the scarf in his hands.

"Are you ready?"

Wordlessly, she outstretched her wrists, and he kissed each one tenderly before wrapping the piece of silk around it, tying the other end to the bedpost.

Leaving her alone one more time, he came back with four of his ties shorty after. Her feet, of course. But why did he need the other ones?

"Temperance, I know you," he finally whispered, as he crawled on top of her immobilized body. "You are strong, smart, proud. You rely on your senses, but tonight I'll take a few of them from you. You cannot move, and you won't be able to see me. But, Honey," the look in his eyes was one of pure endearment, "whenever this goes too far, I'll stop. We don't need a safe word or something like that because you'll just tell me – will you? – and I'll know the truth."

Holding his gaze, she nodded.

"I trust you infinitely."

"Good."

Raising her head with one palm, he bound the tie around her eyes, and she was surrounded by darkness. She could still guess the shades of the flickering candle, but she couldn't see anything else anymore.

A shift of the mattress, followed by a rustling sound indicated that he was removing his clothes as well, and Brennan licked her lips. Suddenly, her throat felt very dry.

"You want some more wine or water?" came his voice out of the darkness, and she turned her head in the direction.

"Wine, please."

"Don't move."

His order excited her, but of course she did flinch as some droplets of rich red wine hit her lips, running down her jaw. Then she felt a different sensation that had her flinch another time, as his rough tongue was on her, licking the residues of the drink from her skin before meeting her lips in a kiss that tasted like hunger and wine. More, she wanted more, and, arching her back, she tried to get closer to him. Her arms moved to hug him, like they knew it, but this time a gentle tug stopped them, brought her back to reality.

Releasing her lips, he chuckled.

"You wanna touch me, Temperance?"

"You know that I want to."

Her voice was clear and bare of shame.

"Too bad..."

Something soft and flimsy touched her breasts, and with a gasp she found out why he needed a fourth tie. Well, at least he wouldn't be able to wear it without a hard-on anymore, she thought in grim satisfaction, before the whispering sensation over her body dazed every coherent thought.

Using both hands, Booth drew the tie over her naked body. Her skin shimmered golden in the dancing candlelight, and her nipples felt hard when he rubbed the smooth piece of clothing around them. He had told her that he wasn't a perv, and it had been the truth. He enjoyed their sweet love-making just as much as steamy encounters against a wall, but having her like this, bound and blindfolded, completely at his mercy, evoked primeval desire deep inside of him.

Still, she was every incarnation of beauty; still, he loved her with heart-crushing gentleness, but right here right now, Booth wanted to have her, possess her.

When he brushed his tie over her heat, this pulsating spot right between her spread legs, she panted, and the garment came back wet.

A dark growl left his lips, as he felt himself harden even further. His impressive arousal was throbbing painfully, reminding him with force where exactly it wanted to be.

Shifting until he lay next to Brennan, Booth moved very close to her slender frame and placed his steely shaft on her hip. She squirmed, and for a moment the hint of friction forced him to close his eyes.

"Baby," he finally spoke, "lets talk about my masculinity for a moment. What do you feel?"

"You," she gasped, "you want me, and I want you. _Please_."

Moving his fingers down her stomach, he paused between her thighs briefly, pushing only the tip of his finger into her before removing it again.

"What exactly do you feel?"

"You... are... hard," she swallowed. "And big. Hot."

"Yeah, we're getting closer, Baby. Are there any warm towels on your mind right now?"

She shook her head wildly, and the silky tresses caressed his chest, causing his own nipples to tighten.

"And do you think that there is anything _sissyish_ about me?"

"No, Booth, no! I never thought that in the first place."

Deciding that she had gained something for the last line, Booth lowered his head to hers and sucked her lower lip into his mouth while two of his fingers plunged into her body anew. She moaned, and the sound vibrated on his lips, as he sought her tongue with his own, all the while stroking in and out of her. Right there, Booth almost lost it, but a contraction around his fingers brought him back on track, and he withdrew them quickly.

Brennan almost howled in frustration, as his touch left her pulsating and empty.

"Okay, will you ever again mention a very private detail like this to an outsider?"

"No, Booth, I promise. Just touch me again," she pleaded on a sob.

Grinning wickedly, Booth moved down her graceful body until he came to a halt between her parted legs.

As opposed to her, he could see her, and the sight of her swollen folds glistening pink and damp in the candlelight was almost too much to bear. He could smell her as well, and the rich scent of her arousal reminded him of a salty sea breeze and sunny days on the ocean. In a soft tease, he blew over her overheated flesh, causing her to jump and fall back, restricted by the silky robes.

He chuckled.

"Patience, Temperance. Stay true to your name for once."

"Booth, please..."

"What do you want?"

"Lick me, taste me, make me come," hurried out of her mouth, and he grinned.

"Half of it I will do, but I'm afraid, the other half has to wait," he murmured right before he closed the distance to her, tapping her swollen clit with his tongue feather-lightly.

It elicited a whimper from her, and then Booth lost it and buried his face between her legs.

His mouth was everywhere, his tongue inside of her, on her, around her, sucking, licking, thrusting into her, and all that Brennan could feel was heat and desire pooling right between her legs.

Tension was building in her center, and she was close, so close when... he stopped! He stopped, and she almost cried.

"Nooooo..."

Despite the swoosh in her head, she could her his heavy pants, but the realization that he was just as aroused as she was did little to soothe her.

Fighting against her boundaries, she flung around on the mattress, and then he was touching her face, and she could see again. Blinking against the light, she tried to focus on his brown orbs that were shining at her with concern, love and burning fire.

Caressing her face with his thumb, he asked,

"Too much, Babe?"

It would be so easy, so very easy to say 'yes', and he would loose her ties. She could wrap herself around him, pull him on top of her until he would finally be buried inside of her, but... Brennan breathed deeply. She had always been a honest person, and the weird truth was... it wasn't too much. At least not in the way he feared it might be.

Holding his gaze, she shook her head.

"I want you so badly, Booth." Her voice was hoarse but steady. "So badly that I cannot think clearly anymore, but... you could never do anything to me that would offend me. Never. You get that? I want you in every way possible. Besides, this was supposed to be a punishment, wasn't it?"

He looked at her in awe.

"Oh, God, I love you so damn much."

His lips crushed onto hers, and, unable to embrace him with her limbs, she tried to do it with her heart.

When he released her a few heartbeats later, he found nothing but devotion in her crystal blue orbs.

"I'm truly glad that I can see your eyes again," he admitted with a shrug.

"Well, good to know that I'm not just a convenient fuck for you, then," she answered with a wicked smile playing around her swollen lips.

He erupted in laughter.

"Oh, Temperance Brennan, you are a _very_ convenient fuck. And so much more."

"What else do you have in mind for punishing me?"

"Hmm, dunno. You'd like to suggest something?"

"Well, I could suck you off," she suggested bluntly. "Not that it would be a real punishment, though," she hurried to add.

His breath wooshed out of his lungs.

"I cannot... take advantage of you like that."

"Since I'm the one proposing it, you aren't," she stated matter-of-factly. "Please, let me taste you..."

Taking a deep breath, he crawled on top of her until he sat right above her breasts.

"Am I crushing you?" he asked insecurely.

"Not at all. Closer, please."

Fulfilling her wish, Booth moved a few inches nearer to her face, and then she lifted her head, and he was in her mouth.

His eyes fell close.

Heaven. Warm, wet, sucking, silky heaven.

Her tongue was swirling around him, and his balls tightened, as her lips moved firmly up and down his shaft. She knew what she was doing – of course she did – but they had never done it this way before, with him sitting on top of her, and Booth felt as if he was degrading her somehow.

However, if her throaty hum was any indicator, she didn't seem to have those problems, and, finally, he cupped her head with his palms to steady her and thrust tentatively into her mouth. Once. Twice.

His head fell back on a groan, and he couldn't prevent his hips from rocking into paradise one more time. Suddenly, her teeth were grazing his shaft so lightly, and – mustering every ounce of control he had left – Booth rolled down from her, slipping out of her mouth.

She groaned in protest, but he silenced her with his palm.

"Don't speak," he stammered, as he tried to control his arousal.

Some more deep breaths later, he felt somehow safe again and released her out of his grip. Her head turned around, and big blue eyes were watching him.

"You know that I like it when you come in my mouth, don't you?"

"Ah... You've told me so, and I believe you."

"Why did you stop me, then?"

"Because, Babe, something tells me that you've learned your lesson, and if I come in your mouth, it would prolong your torture. Do you really want that, Temperance?"

Her head shook with vigor before her brain had even processed his question.

"Hell, no. Does this mean you are finally willing to fuck me?"

Rolling around until his face was close to hers again, he kissed her breathless one more time.

"More than willing. I need you; so, so much. You drive me crazy, woman."

Her head fell back.

"Oh, thank you. And I have to say, driving you crazy sounds only fair from my point of view."

Positioning himself on top her, Booth paused once again.

"So, my love, would you mind repeating what you've learned tonight?"

"A preferences for warm towels doesn't indicate that you are... what was the word again?"

"Sissyish," he uttered between pressed teeth.

"Right. Which you are not. On the contrary, you are a full-grown male with a very impressive penis..."

He rocked against her, and she gasped.

"No squinty talk, my dear," he warned her, but she needed to tease him.

"'Penis' is the anatomically correct word..."

One more thrust with said organ made her lose her interest in anatomy.

"Whatsoever. You are impressive. Hard and hot and male."

"And?"

"And, in future, I will think twice before I mention private details such as warm towels or your penis..."

Her sentence was cut off when he finally thrust forwards, entering her in one swift motion.

"Oh, yes..."

Her muscles contracted and stretched to accommodate him, and, as always, the feeling of him filling her was heavenly.

With her feet and hands bound, Brennan could do nothing but lay still and let him take her, but she did it with as much grace as possible. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and the tremor in his muscles told her that Booth was fighting hard against losing control.

Too bad that she wanted him to lose it, and so she used the one weapon he hadn't taken from her, her voice.

"Yes, Booth, I love it when I can feel you so deep inside of me. Can you feel how wet I am for you," she whispered, and her breath caressed his auricle. Of course he knew how wet she was, and he growled, as the perfect sensation of moving inside of her almost overwhelmed him.

His hand found its way to her breast, squeezing hard, and his thumb brushed over her erect nipple, eliciting a sharp pant from her.

"Yes... Touch me, Booth, touch me, kiss me, lick me, take me."

Reason abandoned him with fleeing colors, as he obeyed her, his shaft pumping in and out of her tightness, his mouth devouring every inch of skin and lips it could find. She gripped him in an intimate caress, and he stroked her as deep as possible.

Then his eyes snapped open, and right before he fell into her, and she fell into him, baby blue burned into dark brown, and the waves of ecstasy were crashing over them.

Following the call of her clenching muscles, Booth released deep inside of her, and his cry mingled with hers in the candlelit room... Eventually, he stilled on top of her, crushing her with his full weight. Her silk-like inner walls were milking him until he had nothing left to give, and silence filled them.

Silence so deep and mighty, and only the sound of their labored breaths remained to tell the story of their love.

When dizziness decreased, and he felt safe enough to move, Booth rolled down from Brennan's overheated body. With shaken fingers he removed the ties that bound her, kissing every wrist and ankle with infinite tenderness before closing her into his arms.

Free to embrace him, Brennan wrapped her wobbly limbs around him, cuddling into his side as if there was no bone left in her body to steady her.

Feathery kisses were raining all over her hair, cheeks, eyelids, lips, and finally his mouth found hers, and she received a kiss full of love and adoration.

She would never be less than precious to him; he would never deserve less than her utmost faith.

Tonight Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan had found themselves on foreign ground, but like so often before, they had managed to walk on it without slipping.

Together.

As always.

To be continued...

_Well, unfortunately the concept of the story doesn't leave room for too much smut, but I tried to make up for a few more T chapters with this one ;-)_

_Happy Friday!_


	15. Seventh Year: She Dreamed a Dream

_This is Brennan-centric because there are some moments you have to face alone._

The Seventh Year: She Dreamed a Dream

"_Did you think about Booth at all when you were away?"_

It was sometime around midnight, and the Indonesian jungle wasn't quiet yet. Temperance Brennan lay in her tent, listening to the humming and chirping around her. Every once in a while a scream cut into the darkness – primates, she supposed – and very rarely the distant roar of a jungle cat could be heard.

She loved the sounds of the nighty forest, but even after six months, it still felt oddly unfamiliar. The humidity had caused her hair to curl unpleasantly, and Brennan had opted for a more practical cut. On her former digs, she had always found it easy to adjust to the environment, but this time accustoming didn't want to come.

She felt... misplaced somehow.

The first month everything was new and exciting. Becoming acquainted with the team, taking a look at the findings, exploring the area. Every thought that wasn't Maluku-related was safely locked away. Everything seemed to be vivid but sharp somehow – as if she was under the influence of mind-altering substances.

The second month it rained almost uninterruptedly. Brennan was all wet, and dampness was creeping into her bones. Despite the tropical heat, she felt cold, and all her belongings were clammy, even the photo... the only sentimental thing she had allowed herself to bring along. It had been taken two years ago in London, and it showed the two of them in front of the Tower Bridge. Booth had his arm around her shoulder, smiling down on her with curved lips and white teeth. She was saying something, gesticulating with her arms. It was just them, the way they had been, caught in the moment. Brennan knew that the easy closeness they had shared back then was lost forever, but... if only he could wrap his arm around her shoulder and look at her like that right now.

The third month the dreams came. It started with flashes, barely connected. His face, words he had said, his brown eyes, the sound of his laughter. Brennan was used to dreaming about Booth, but this time he wasn't dying. He was just there, dwelling on the edge of every picture her sleepy mind created. Despite his all-consuming presence, she slept like a baby, looking forward to the night's dreams every single evening. Her days were less pleasant, though. The work on the dig site progressed slowly, and one more time in her life she felt like an outsider. It seemed as if she lacked some synapses which were needed to truly connect with her team members, as if there was a whole social net around her that excluded her. Once again.

The fourth month her dreams became more and more vivid, began to tell a story. She and Booth were riding in his black SUV to a crime scene, he was waiting for her to form a conclusion, they were solving one more murder. She dreamed about their celebration drinks and about take-out at night. So many miles away from her old life, Brennan found it suddenly hard to name what exactly she had fled. Her chest was swelling every time his handsome face appeared on her mind, and whenever Daisy used to talk about their colleagues, friends and _him_, something inside of her stomach did a somersault. The sound of his name brought back memories and yearnings.

Every night she fell asleep with the feeling of his lips on her own, and his sad face was haunting her. He had said he had to move on, but what if... what if he had been right in the first place? What if they could really find happiness in each other? Surrounded by strangers she couldn't connect with, Brennan was finally able to realize the intimacy of the bond she had shared with Booth. She had been happy with him, truly happy, and if his smiling eyes had told the truth, he had felt the same. Maybe she wasn't as damaged as she had always assumed. Maybe she could risk it after all...

The fifth month. Without knowing it, he shared the darkness of the night with Brennan, but her fantasies had shifted into the bright hours of the day as well. While standing knee-deep in a dusty hole or exploring an overgrown jungle path, she was building a world around him. Little details at first – Booth coming home in the evening, hugs and caresses that banished the exhaustion of the day, homemade meals. When fragments weren't enough anymore, she imagined a single life shared. Would he be attentive? Could he really cope with her crazy schedule, her morbid interests? What would Parker say?

Her heart opened, and something inside of her, a part that had been pupated for so long, stretched itself and lifted its wings like a newborn butterfly that was feeling the wind for the very first time.

The sixth month she was ready to go home. From a scientific point of view, the dig was a disappointment. From a personal point of view, Brennan was sick to the stomach with missing Booth. She wanted to be buried in his arms, surrounded by his unique scent – so male and familiar. Nothing else mattered anymore except for him. She wanted her life back, maybe even pursue something more. However, there was still half a year ahead of her, and she didn't want to appear weak by leaving early. Besides, Booth wouldn't be in D.C. yet.

So she held out, tried to find distraction in her work and dreamed some more...

Meanwhile, a few thousand miles away under the hot desert sun, Sergeant Major Seeley Booth had met a blonde journalist called Hannah Burley... and for the first time in months simple warmth had caressed his bruised heart.

-BONES-

Irony... some people say it's the devil's way to mess with higher intentions; others believe in mere coincidences, not related to each other in the grander scheme of things. Anyhow, there was something ironic about the fact that the instant they could have been on the same page, when she had finally arrived there, he had just put down the book.

And out of all the moments Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan had missed so far, this one was the gravest. Of course, they didn't know it yet, were oblivious to the painful time of denial that was awaiting them. And when the phone call a few days later forced them to re-enter reality, both of them were filled with hope.

She had hope to finally make it out of her inner maze and into his arms.

He had hope to find balance between his new lover Hannah and his old friend Bones.

To be continued...

_So sorry... there was little happiness between "The Parts in the Sum of the Whole" and the latest ep, but I think it is important to take a look at her development. _


	16. Seventh Year: Science and Truth

_Oh, I have a feeling that this is going somewhere. Season 6 finally gave us a happy moment! Let's honor it._

The Seventh Year: Science and Truth

"_You always told me that it was the ocean."_

Brennan's face was glowing with child-like delight, and while she listened to the rush of her own blood, a tiny part inside of her found joy in pretending that it was the rolling sound of the ocean. With one simple gift her father had brought back one of her fondest childhood memories, and – yes – she loved Max for it. Despite everything he had done to her in the distant and recent past, Brennan was glad for the presence of her father in her life. Thanks to Booth she had been able to forgive Max Keenan; thanks to Booth she had learned to see the fine shades of gray between black and white.

Standing there in the dark street, the artificial shell pressed to her auricle, Temperance Brennan felt grateful and content. Not only because of her father's visit, no, she was relieved that Booth hadn't been hurt – well, at least not worse – and happy that they had the opportunity to spend the evening together. Although he had called her to order her to the crime scene, her heart hadn't stopped racing until she had seen her partner with her own eyes. Rationally, she had known that Booth had been okay, but another part of her had needed to face him to believe it.

Balance. It was all about balance.

She was still working on that one.

Ever since the night in the rain and her confession, Brennan had awaited awkwardness to take their hands. Surprisingly, it hadn't. Granted, there had been a moment of brief hurt when Hannah had confronted her, but Brennan had been able to regain her composure quite quickly, and no damage had been done.

_What goes on between us is ours. _

Sometimes Brennan had to remind herself that things had changed and that Booth had another "ours" apart from theirs now. She couldn't really blame him for telling his girlfriend about it. After all, from a certain point of view, she – Brennan – had tried to sabotage Booth's and Hannah's relationship.

The fleeting pang of betrayal had surprised Brennan as well. It takes the world three days to be right side up again, and she felt definitely centered and focused these days, but something in her perspective had changed. Sometimes it seemed as if she was seeing, truly seeing, for the first time in her life, and she was feeling _so much_.

Once she had told Booth that she was running through a maze, unable to see a way out. At some point she had finally found it – in fact, a very strange one. It wasn't as if she had simply reached the exit, no, it rather felt as if something had lifted her up. For the first time Brennan was able to take in the whole picture, to count her errors and dead ends, to see the right way. To understand everything.

And despite her bad timing, his rejection and the whole mess, the feeling hadn't stopped. Brennan was vulnerable, but she felt... normal somehow. It seemed as if she had somehow found a missing link.

The events of the last year had left scars on their relationship, and some of them were still sensitive, but sometimes she caught him looking at her with a hunch of the old warmth in his eyes; sometimes her hand found his arm without thinking twice.

Her cheek was pressed to the cold ceramic shell, and a faraway smile lit up her whole face. Every once in a while there is a truth that mere science cannot grasp; and her inner child embraced the wonderful magic of the moment.

-BONES-

Booth was agitated and hurt. Today a dark part of his past had outrun him, and he had no idea how to deal with it. In former times he would have searched a bar with a pool table; in the years after Temperance Brennan had been his tower of strength. Today there was another woman waiting for him – one that didn't know about the former Seeley Booth at all. Hannah stood for easiness, warmth and hope, but right now Booth wasn't sure if he could cope with that.

The murder of Heather Taffet had cracked the shell of his new life, and Booth was helpless against the confusion rushing through his mind.

With a sigh he turned his head to look out of the window – and forgot how to breathe.

Beautiful. She was so beautiful.

His partner was standing in the street, holding something that looked like a shell to her ear. She was smiling – that kind of smile which opens your heart, which reduces everything else to mere pettiness. His chest tightened, and for a few aching heartbeats, his dark coal eyes were captured by her beaming face.

_Bones, you are the standard._

His own words came back to haunt him, and Booth had to bow his head.

'Oh, my God...'

He had found the answer to his former question. There was only one thing that could help him to see clearly right now. One pair of eyes that could look through him, one hand that could soothe the pain, one smile that could wash away the confusion, one person who truly knew him. Everything he needed, everything he wanted was there right in front of him, pressing a shell to her ear.

-BONES-

Twisting the cup of coffee in his hands, Booth missed the sound of the door, and then a graceful body took a seat in front of him. His gaze fell to the shell she had put on the table.

"Huh?"

He arched a skeptic eyebrow at her, but she smiled gleefully.

"A gift from Max."

"It's... well... unique."

His mind finally provided him with a better word than 'ugly', and although she must have sensed it, the sparkle didn't leave her pale blue eyes.

"I know that it is not objectively beautiful, but you can hear the ocean in it," Brennan answered, and he chuckled.

"The ocean? You know that it is just the sound of your own blood rushing through your head, don't you?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she stated,

"Of course I do, but sometimes pretending is so much prettier than the simple truth."

Her innocent words were hanging in the air between them, mocking him.

Booth knew a thing or two about pretending. And, sometimes, when there is nothing simple or rational about a truth, pretending seems to be an easy way out. But – for the honest people, the ones who need to stay true to themselves – that kind of escape could backfire, would turn into a path lined with thorns and potholes.

Brennan could believe that there was an ocean inside of a shell.

However, in this weak moment born out of confusion, Booth didn't know if he could still pretend that there was love in a world without her.

He wanted to believe again – in a shell, the ocean and her.

To be continued...

_I'm in awe of the last scene. The look on her face was utter perfection._


	17. Second Year: The Cosmic Balance Sheet

_Set after "The Man in the SUV". The current sniper arch made me think of this one._

The Second Year: The Cosmic Balance Sheet

"_You saved so many people, Booth. Don't forget that."_

In the split second before the man had a chance to press the button, before the bullet entered his forehead in a clear, lethal line, Temperance Brennan felt her heart stop. Literally. Then people started to run in a chaotic pattern while Homeland Security and FBI secured the scene.

Next to her Seeley Booth breathed deeply in and out, his eyes closed, and she observed him carefully. The moment was significant, she felt it, but she failed to understand why exactly.

He was her partner now. It hadn't been her own decision, but somehow the cocky FBI agent had found a way back into her life, and the Jeffersonian had given her to him like a piece of property. She had hated it – after all, Brennan was unique, her skills irreplaceable. However, at least she had been able to set her own ground rules for their partnership.

It wasn't as if she didn't like working as an FBI associate, in fact, the cases they had solved so far had filled her with profound satisfaction. Once they had found a way to deal with the explosive attraction and awkwardness between them, she had even learned to appreciate Seeley Booth.

There was more about this man than his annoying charming smile and his looks, she knew that now. He was a very skilful and compassionate investigator, and he had his own demons haunting him. Maybe his cockiness was a mask just like her reason; maybe they could connect in a way that didn't include steamy kisses or hot encounters against a wall. Maybe... she could even like him.

_You know, being a sniper I took, a lot of lives, What I'd like to do before I'm done is try and catch at least that many murderers. _

At first she had thought it was ridiculous, had almost blurted it out, but had stopped herself in the last second. Instead she had opted for, "I'd like to help you with that." And it had been the truth. Brennan didn't believe in heaven, hell, fate or cosmic balance sheets at all, but she had found out that – maybe – she could believe in Seeley Booth.

-BONES-

Another kill on his list. One more soul that would come back to haunt him.

Brennan had pointed the suspect out to him, had told him that the man had possessed all the markers. And Booth had believed her, but, still, he hadn't been able to do it. He needed a face. Granted, seeing the face of a person you are about to kill only adds to the nightmares, but he couldn't allow himself the luxury not to look at it. Taking someone's life is as final as it gets, and there may not be a hint of doubt.

Somehow she had understood him, and even though Brennan had instantly known that it had been the right man, she hadn't tried to convince her partner. Instead, she had respected his need and had provided him with a face. It had been so simple to call the man's name, but Booth himself hadn't been able to come up with this idea.

Today she had saved his ass. And probably some lives.

Temperance Brennan was his partner now.

_She's your responsibility._

His boss had said it in a way which indicated that the stubborn scientist lady would probably be a burden in the field, someone that could weaken him, but today _she_ had rescued _him_ in a moment of weakness. He owned her for that, even if she was oblivious to it, and Booth vowed to himself that she _would_ be his responsibility from now on. Her safety, her wellbeing.

He would work side by side with her, and something told him that it might not always be easy, but from now on he would do everything in his power to protect her. Protect her from simple physical danger and from even more malicious risks. She didn't seem to believe in karma, but he did, and he didn't want her to suffer because of her cosmic balance sheet one day.

In a futile attempt to cleanse himself, Booth moved his palm over his face. When he lifted his head again, looking at her, Brennan was regarding him with calm, crystal blue eyes, and it felt kind of soothing. Even though it was irrational, her look comforted him enough to square his shoulders and exhale a deep breath.

Tentatively, she outstretched her hand to touch his arm. It was only brief, but for a moment he could feel her warmth, her compassion.

"Let's grab a drink, Booth. We're done here."

Glancing at the body a last time, Booth nodded.

"Yeah... done."

She hesitated one moment, walking on foreign ground, but the darkness in his gaze evoked the wish to say something.

"You have done the right thing. You had no choice."

He shrugged.

"Doesn't change the fact that he is dead now."

"Booth... you saved so many lives in doing so. You already made up for this one," she whispered.

His eyes burned into hers, and he understood her.

"Thank you, Temperance. For everything you did today."

"Well, I'm your partner."

"Yes, you are. I'm... glad. Truly glad."

"I have to say... I find it quite rewarding as well."

Finally the hint of a smile played around his lips, and she returned it.

"Drink?"

"Yes."

-BONES-

Later that night Seeley Booth had diner with his girlfriend Tessa, and it could have been a peaceful meal if it hadn't felt so wrong after the events of the day. The silence that covered them wasn't a comfortable one, and he was oddly off balance, his fingers itching. Not so long ago, Booth would have found himself a bar with a pool table after a day like this one, but the memory of his partner's clear blue eyes managed to calm him.

He wasn't that man anymore.

Temperance Brennan had no one in her life who awaited her at night, but she was fine with it. She didn't mind being alone, and there were plenty of unidentified bodies in limbo to keep her company. Tonight she gave a young soldier called William Donahue his name and history back, and deep satisfaction settled over her. Silently, she decided to dedicate this one to her partner, to add it to the positive side of the list Booth was so desperate to offset.

Every time she identified remains, she gave closure to a family, but in truth, she did it for another reason as well. She did it for the little Temperance inside of her who had not had anyone like her when her life had turned upside down. The girl whose parents had disappeared without a trace.

And so, even though she denied the fact, Brennan had her very own balance sheet to take off.

To be continued...

_One word in private: I've just wrapped my old job up, and leaving behind those people who have worked at my side for four years has been quite heart-crushing. It might sound ridiculous, but this story gave me something to hold on to, distracted me from my melancholy. On Wednesday I'll leave for Australia and will be traveling for a few weeks, and hereafter my new job will start. So this might have been my last update for a while. Anyways, there are a lot of long-distant flights ahead of me, and I'll take my moments with me. I promise that this story isn't over, yet. Until then: Be safe and don't lose your faith. _

_All my love,_

_Ann_


	18. Tenth Year: The Joy in The Heart

_I decided to give you a little bit more fluff before my departure. This may count as an epilogue to the Tenth Year chapter "Everything Happens Eventually", and be warned: It's fluffier and sweeter than cotton candy. Maybe even a tad too much..._

The Tenth Year: The Joy in The Heart

"_Do they lead separate lives, or is it a single life shared?"_

Temperance Brennan rested comfortably on a pile of fluffy pillows and tried to read while her partner was talking to their daughter. Considering the fact that said daughter was still in her belly – would be for two more months – Brennan found it quite difficult to concentrate on her book.

"... then the bad man started to cry and told your daddy exactly what he needed to hear. And the world was a bit safer," he cooed, and Brennan rolled her eyes.

"Do you really think it is necessary to tell her every single detail about your day? Although I'm positive that our child will be quite intelligent, don't overestimate her ability to understand you, Booth."

Flashing a smile, Booth drew tender circles over Brennan's exposed belly.

"Since you are staying in the lab all the time, I miss you two so much every day."

"Yes, who could have guessed the FBI's attitude about pregnant women in he field? I still disagree, by the way."

"I know you do, but we won't discuss this one again. You can't run or fight anymore, and I cannot be distracted by my concern about you and our baby."

His lips whispered over her skin, tickling her, and she giggled.

"Stop it," she pleaded, but Booth continued with his caresses until he felt a soft bump from inside of her. The sun rose on his face, and he lifted his head to look at the woman lying next to him.

"She loves it when you laugh, Babe. So do I, by the way."

Still smiling, Brennan shook her head.

"She merely supports me because she knows that you'll stop your teasing as soon as she moves."

With a content sigh, Booth rested his head on her swollen midsection, listening to the life that was growing inside of her.

"I can't wait to meet her, Bones. Sometimes I'm almost jealous because you are so close to her everyday, and I'm just an outsider."

Dropping her book, Brennan ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair.

"You're not an outsider, Booth," she said affectionately. "You are the man I love, her daddy, and she reacts to your voice. Sometimes _I _feel jealous when you talk more to my belly than to my face," she added with a smirk.

He lifted his hand to caress her cheek.

"Don't ever doubt that you mean the world to me, Temperance. And you are most definitely not an outsider."

She shrugged.

"Sometimes it feels as if the two of you have this _thing_ going on, and I can just watch it. Don't get me wrong, I'm more than happy about our baby and your delight, but you have all your instincts, you know exactly what to do, and I look at myself every once in a while and feel like... an alien."

He chuckled.

"A very beautiful alien. Don't worry, Honey, you are wonderful, and you will be a splendid mother."

Booth looked at her in awe. Seven months pregnant, Brennan was surrounded by a glow. Her hair was even silkier these days, her cheeks possessed a rosy flush and her breasts had gained one size. Even though she tended to feel unattractive and flabby from time to time, she was nothing but stunning to him. He loved her new curves, and the knowledge that they had created a life, that _he_ had done this to her, made his chest almost burst with pride and adoration.

Since he had learned about her pregnancy, Booth had waited impatiently for every little sign that would make it more real. The first months he had held her hair back when morning sickness had overpowered her. He had watched her hips widen, he had been there to buy the first pair of maternity pants with her. When they had seen their baby on the ultrasound for the very first time, the fast thumping of the little heartbeat filling the room, he had almost crushed Brennan's hand and cried like Angela at the end of a romantic chick flick.

They were having a girl. A girl! He hadn't really cared about the child's sex, but the moment the doctor had told them that it would be a baby girl, Booth had to realize that his former attitude hadn't been true. The fact that he would get a mini Bones on top of the real one he already had had flooded his chest with infinite tenderness. He hoped that she would have her mother's eyes.

This baby had been conceived with love, and Booth vowed to himself that she would be surrounded by the very same feeling of warmth and safety every day. If only the thing with the name hadn't gone so terribly wrong...

"Baby?"

He lifted his head and found her already looking at him.

"Eh, about the name..."

Brennan cut him off with a curt shake of her head.

"No, Booth, fair is fair. If I recall it correctly, I have won the bet and therefore the right to name our child."

He sighed in defeat.

"I know, but the names you've come up with so far... Bones, I don't want to look at our baby and think of an ancient mummy. Please..."

His agony was almost palpable, but she put on a nonchalant mask and decided to tease him.

"'Cleopatra' is a very strong and expressive name."

Burying his face in her lap, he groaned.

"May I... may I make another suggestion? One last time? Please..."

His brown puppy eyes were pleading her, and as if to sign his petition, the baby chose that moment to kick her. Turning his head to her belly, Booth added,

"You aren't a 'Cleopatra', are you?"

"Don't fraternize with her on this one," Brennan warned. "But go ahead, try to convince me a last time."

"_Joy_," he whispered, and her eyes bored into his. "Because she and you are nothing but joy to me, and because, a very long time ago, there has been another little Joy who has been loved by her parents so very much."

"Joy," she repeated, and the sound of the name on her tongue brought back a rush of blurred memories and emotions. Her chest tightened, and she could feel moisture gathering in her eyes.

Stupid pregnancy hormones.

The baby shifted inside of her, and it felt as if a colony of butterflies fluttered into the dazzling sun.

"Think about it, Temperance, take your time," he said in a low voice. "But 'Joy' would be a beautiful name for our little girl. And besides, you could still give her a mummy middle name."

"I like it," she answered with touching candor. "So very much."

His heart expanded, and Booth abandoned her belly to crawl next to her. He opened his arms for her, and she placed her head on his shoulder. Nuzzling her neck with his lips, he enjoyed the soft sensation of her hair and her very own scent that was so familiar to him.

Home... he was home.

Splaying her hand over the bulge of their daughter, Brennan could still feel her feather-light movements. Joy... it fit.

"Hi, little Joy," she whispered and felt a kiss on her hairline. "I think your daddy just rescued you from being teased at preschool."

Her head bobbed, as his whole frame quaked under his laughter, and he pulled her tighter into his arms.

"I had the utmost faith in your sanity, Babe," he murmured into her curls, and a grin found its way onto her face.

"I never thought I could feel so good, so... complete," she confessed with a trace of vulnerability in her voice.

For a moment, Booth thought about returning the words, comforting her, but, truth be told, he had known it. Ever since he had admitted to himself that he was head over heels in love with Temperance Brennan, he had dreamed about her, and it had always felt like this. So right. So everything.

"You knew it, didn't you?" she asked, and one more time he had to wonder how easily she could read him.

"I knew that there was nothing in this world that I wouldn't do to make you happy," he answered. "I knew that my love for you was bigger than everything I had ever experienced before. And I knew that my place was by your side."

Contemplating his words for a minute, Brennan snuggled deeper into his warm body, her arms wrapping themselves around his back.

"I'm sorry that it took me so long to get there, Booth."

For a moment he thought about the night on the stairs of the Hoover Building, stolen passion in his car and the painful struggles after they had come back from Maluku and Afghanistan. He had even tried to convince himself that he was in love with someone else, and for months Booth had felt the bitter taste of lies in his mouth. When Brennan had finally been able to name her regrets, it had almost tore him apart, but fear had forced him to remain stock still. Like frozen in a bad dream that had started as soon as he had opened his eyes in the morning.

Granted, her timing had sucked, but the bliss he had felt when he had finally made love to her, when she had told him with eyes wide open that she loved him... everything had been worth it because this had been the single moment of his life that he would never forget; the one that would shine a light even in the deepest darkness.

"Don't be sorry, Honey," he finally said, his hand drawing circles on her back. "We are here now. We share a life, we are having a baby, and every single day I am happy just because you are there. You're it, Temperance, just it."

"Marry me, Booth," she whispered, and his hand stopped along with his heart.

"Huh?" he croaked.

"Marry me. No because we're having a baby, but because you make me happy every single day as well."

As soon as his heart started to beat again, Booth crushed his lips onto hers, and her words echoed in his head. Never in his wildest dreams had he dared to believe that she would agree to marry him some day, and now she had in fact asked him. It was somehow wrong and so right.

"Yes, yes, yes," he whispered under tears, and he could feel her smile against his lips.

The rocked each other silently for a few minutes, and after he had regained control over the whirlwind of emotions inside of him, he stated in a serious tone,

"Temperance Brennan you are a constant surprise. Taking you as my wife would make me the happiest man on earth. And these two sentences are not necessarily related to each other."

She chuckled.

"Well, I surprised myself, but I found out that I'd like to be your wife very much."

"I insist on buying you a ring."

"I can live with that. I won't wear a typical bridal gown, though."

He pouted.

"But you are so beautiful in white."

"Okay, maybe white. Or cream-colored."

She thought about her next condition, but changed her opinion before the words had left her lips. After all, it had to be important to him.

"A church would be acceptable."

For a few heartbeats, he just looked at her, and something inside of her melted at the pure devotion in his eyes.

"I won't convince you to take my name," he tried to return the gesture.

"Agreed."

"Ah, Temperance, you know what? I don't even care about the rest, just marry me."

"Yes, as soon as Joy has been born and I fit into a real dress again and not some kind of canvas."

He smiled honestly and cupped her rounded belly with his hand.

"I love your curves. No matter what you believe, you are incredibly sexy, Babe."

Taking his dear face in both hands, she looked deeply into his brown eyes.

"Prove it to me."

Then his mouth whispered over hers, and very soon she was lost in the sensations he created. He undressed her, she undressed him until the familiar feeling of skin brushing over skin dazed their minds. They made love – slowly and sweetly and carefully – and when he moved inside of her, Brennan could see every truth in his eyes, every answer and every color of the rainbow. He treated her body as if she was a fragile piece of china, incredibly precious, and the embodiment of his love nourished a flame inside of her that finally consumed her until liquid fire was flowing in her veins and she was burning.

Burning and falling and flying at the same time.

They moved in a rhythm as old as life itself, and only breathless moans and the sound of kisses were heard. This... this was as close as it could ever get, and at the same time it would never be close enough. His intimate caress combined with the velvet-like look in his dark eyes sent her over the edge, and – as always – he followed her.

Wherever she may go, he would be.

Sometimes one might take longer than the other, but in the end... in the end they would be together.

With joy.

_Sorry for not giving you more smut this time, but I was in the mood for sweetness... And yes, the series will go on, but I'm not sure if there will be a chapter set after this. I don't know if there could be a happier place than this one. I truly loved writing this chapter._


	19. Seventh Year: The Third Option

_I'm back, Baby! And with that I don't want to imply that there are infants among you; in fact, I hope that you are all very mature adults. Even though this chapter is not M. Oh, well, just read. _

The Seventh Year: The Third Option

"_Those are my only choices?"_

For a brief moment she was torn.

He had given her two choices, the second one of them being unthinkable. Not working with Booth anymore, giving up their partnership... For the last six years this had been the strongest constant in her life, one of the pillars of her world. Brennan did not want to be partnered with another FBI agent. Sure, she could go back to doing lab work and giving lectures, and the rational part inside of her reassured her that she would be fine.

However, there was this other part as well.

And it was screaming.

No, losing Booth as a partner was not acceptable.

That left her with one more option, and some months ago she wouldn't have hesitated to choose it – after all, it was what they had done for years. Having drinks. Being partners. Save that there had always been something else. Ever since their very first case it had lingered between them, teased them, tried to lure them. It couldn't even be explained by mere sexual attraction...

It was a promise which had told them that they were special.

A possibility that had whispered about infinite sweetness.

And in this moment right here, right now, Brennan didn't know if she was willing to live without the possibility. If she was able to do so.

Looking at her partner, she knew that she didn't really have a choice, though. Hannah was gone, he was devastated. Another scratch on his big heart.

Temperance Brennan loved Seeley Booth. She was in love with him. And she knew it. For years she had lived in denial, had been ruled by fear and insecurities. She hadn't allowed herself to accept what he had wanted to give her and she had hurt him.

So much.

It was ironic that now, when she was finally able to grasp the dazzling truth, he drew another line for them that may not be crossed.

Brennan looked at her partner with wide, almost desperate eyes. The desire to comfort him was overwhelming, and in a heartbeat born out of endless devotion and affection, she turned around and ordered her drink.

She could always lie and pretend; after all, the last months had taught her how to do so.

-BONES-

She had decided to stay, and relief mingled with pain shot through his veins. Booth didn't want to lose Brennan – at least not more than he had already lost her, and he was truly glad that she hadn't left him.

Somehow, he still needed her, but tonight he couldn't allow himself to need her too much.

Still, as intoxicated and shattered as he was right now, the realization that being nothing more than partners could be enough for her hurt vaguely. Had she gone... maybe he would have followed her, offered her another option. Maybe... but maybe not.

At least she was there, and through the alcohol and the sour trace of disappointment Booth was able to catch her scent. Vanilla, roses and something else; something that was pure, deeply familiar and just her. Something that was as comforting as his mother's kiss when he had been a little boy.

Turning his head, Booth cast a quick sideways glance at his partner. His head was spinning, and it was as if he was falling freely into an abyss he hadn't wanted to face again.

"One more time my love hasn't been enough," he mumbled heavy-tongued, gulping another drink.

Brennan didn't look at him, as she whispered her answer.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe your love was simply too much?"

He grunted.

"Semantics. Doesn't really matter, does it?"

Oh, it mattered; it mattered so much, and she bit her tongue not to say the words. After all, she had just accepted his conditions, and trips down memory lane didn't really help the matter. She understood Hannah. So intimately. Brennan knew that the blonde woman loved Booth, but that his offer had been too big to take it. And that was a feeling Brennan was deeply familiar with because a lack of emotions had certainly not been her own reason for rejecting him more than a year ago.

Booth was a man who wanted everything. Hannah had been the braver one, had given and taken where Brennan herself hadn't been able to risk it.

Sipping her drink, she thought about the phone call she had gotten an hour ago. "I have failed, Temperance." The hurt had been filled with sharp silence, and both women had remembered another conversation.

_Booth will give himself to you completely. And it would be very painful for him if you weren't as serious about the relationship as he is. - I am. But thanks, though. You're a good friend, Temperance. Seeley is very lucky._

Taking a deep breath, Brennan tried to adjust. Where would they go from here? Being just partners... they had never been just partners. Angela had told her to move on, and it seemed to be the wisest thing to do, but, for the first time in her life, Temperance Brennan felt the urge to listen to an irrational voice deep inside of her.

She did not want to move on – not if doing so meant moving away from Booth. She wanted to be close to him – literally and metaphorically. In a moment of infinite clarity, Brennan knew that she could not give up hope, that she would hold on to the Tequila-flavored promise he had made so many years ago.

This could be going somewhere...

She _knew_ it.

"Booth?"

"Huh?"

Twisting her glass in her hands, Brennan tried to muster some courage.

"Please don't say anything. I know that you hurt and... but..."

Interrupting herself, she buried her face in her hands and cried out in frustration.

"I can't even get this one right."

He shrugged it off.

"Well, makes two of us, Bones."

His bitter tone hit her, and, tentatively, she placed her hand on his arm until he could feel her warmth invading his coldness.

"Booth, I want you to know that I did not _choose_ the first option."

Flinging around his head, Booth glared at her with dark fire.

"But you stayed," he snarled. "Those were the conditions, Bones."

She silenced him with a gentle squeeze.

"I could never live with the other scenario you provided me with and so I had to settle for... the second worst."

Her voice was small, but her bright eyes never left his.

"I cannot lose you, Booth, so I accept your terms. But... I have to say something as well."

Opening his mouth to protest, Booth was cut off by her hand.

"No, Booth. I know that you are in pain right now, and that you have already been hurt in the past." Taking a deep breath, she added, "Twice. But you and me... that is not only your pain – it is mine as well."

Teary eyes, damp cheeks and heart-crushing sobs filled his mind at her words. And heaven had joined in her cries.

"Please, look at me."

Lifting his head, he held her gaze, and after a few blinks of silence, something cleared inside of his deep orbs until Brennan found him in the darkness. She gave him a smile, and it almost touched his heart.

"Booth, I want you to know that there is a third option. And no matter what you say, whichever line you try to draw this time – it will be there."

"No, no..."

He shook his head in desperation, but she stayed firm.

"Yes, Booth. You have always been right about us, and I won't deny that ever again. Let's have drinks, let's be partners, take care of your wounds – fine. As long as you are happy, I can live with it. But, please, don't forget that this time it is _your_ choice to limit our options. I won't go away, Booth."

Giving his arm a final squeeze, she released it and his gaze, looking into her drink. Booth regarded her silently; after all, what could he possibly say?

He knew that she was right. There is always one person that you love the most, and this person won't go anywhere. He had told her so. What surprised him was that she had understood it.

Sometime in the last months his partner – this brilliant, stubborn, rational woman – had changed, and he hadn't noticed it. Something told him that her breakdown in the car had only been the peak of it.

He had missed a whole evolution.

Sighing into his glass, Booth welcomed the benumbing effect of the alcohol.

"Please, drop it, Temperance," he pleaded on a whisper, and she looked away.

"Don't worry, I won't push you. Given my past actions I know... I know," he voice faltered, "that I have no right to expect anything. But... what I feel is there and real. I want to be your partner and I will have drinks with you, but... the rest won't change, Booth. Don't forget that."

He looked at her silently, took her all in. Her dark hair, her pale blue eyes that shimmered with undisguised openness. Unhidden emotions were visible on her face, and even though it was impossible, Booth could have sworn that he was able to hear her heartbeat. Fast and steady. Reassuring.

"I know, Bones," he finally admitted. "But not tonight. Tonight I have to forget. Please, help me to forget."

His voice was as raw as his gaze when she met it, and she nodded. Whatever label there was, this was Booth, and Brennan would do everything for him. Wordlessly, she ordered two more drinks, and sitting next to him, she shared his silence.

Later that night, when he tried to stand on unsteady legs, she drove him home to an empty apartment.

Sitting in her car in front of his building, she decided to give him fifteen minutes. He only needed five before he appeared on the street again, a haunted look on his face. Without saying anything, she opened the door, and he took a seat next to her again. He sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands, as she started the engine to drive to another part of the town.

Her place was cool and embraced them with darkness. Striping of her coat and slipping out of her shoes happened in the blink of a moment, and Brennan left Booth alone in her living room. A minute later she came back with a pillow and a blanket, preparing a makeshift bed for him on her couch.

He barely took the time to take off his shoes before he crashed on the cushions. The events of the day – hell, of the whole year – hit him with full force, and he groaned silently. Booth knew that he had been living a dream, and waking up hurt, but for the fraction of a moment he had allowed himself to believe that he could have it.

Everything.

The friendship of his partner _and_ a lovely wife waiting for him in the end of the day.

Booth wasn't stupid, he had known that Hannah wasn't the marrying kind, but, nevertheless, he had tried to press her into that role. Just like he had tried to push Brennan into something she hadn't been ready for.

Maybe it wasn't all their fault. Maybe he was the only one to blame... Anger mingled with confusion, as Booth thought about the women in his life. The ones he had loved.

Rebecca didn't hurt anymore; it had been too long ago. Hannah was a wound still open, one that pulsated with sharp pain, but deep down, deep down he knew that the scar remaining wouldn't be the biggest one. Brennan however...

With eyes closed, Booth heard her rummaging around in the kitchen, and the air in her apartment smelled like a fainter version of its owner.

She had burned him. Terribly burned him. He knew that something had changed for her and that maybe she could let him all in now. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't face her pain again, the dark agony only she could cause. Therefore he had to draw a line tonight. To protect himself.

He couldn't allow himself to fall for the beautiful charm of Temperance Brennan again because the next blow might be too hard to survive.

Blinded by his pain, Seeley Booth failed to see that loving Brennan wasn't his choice to make. And while he lay in misery on her couch and she prepared a soothing tea for him in her kitchen, the universe was smiling at those two people who felt so separated from each other right now, when in truth all that was needed was one gentle shift to make everything right again.

There are paths in our life that we choose out of free will, and like a butterfly on a warm day of spring we flutter from petal to petal. But then there are other paths, and regardless of whether one believes in fate or not, those are the paths we have to take. They might be stony and lined with thorns, but in the end, in the end they are the ones that lead us to the places where we have to be.

And for him it was her. Had ever been. Would ever be.

He might deny and ignore it right now, but deep down he had always known the truth. There weren't two or three options for them; there was only a single one and it was brighter than everything else. He would heal and resume his walk, and, eventually, they will meet.

It wasn't a matter of "if". The only question was "when".

Later that night, after he had accepted the comfort of her tea and her presence, he cried into her hair, and the softness of her arms wrapped around his tension eased something deep inside of him. When alcohol and exhaustion took a toll, Booth fell asleep, and with moist eyes, Brennan brushed the dampness from his cheeks, her heart aching but oh so full.

It hurt her to see Booth in pain, but – and she wasn't proud of it – a selfish part inside of her was glad beyond belief that Hannah was out of the picture. Brennan wanted Booth to be happy, but she was positive that she wouldn't have taken it very well if her partner had married another woman.

With a last caress she loosened herself out of his arms and covered his big frame with the blanket. On her way to bed she made another detour, following an irrational impulse, and then there was nothing more that she could do for him.

At least for now.

-BONES-

Seeley Booth awoke at dawn, the sound of a jackhammer in his head, a bitter taste on his tongue. He swallowed hard against the dryness in his mouth, and then the memories hit him with unexpected force.

Hannah, the proposal, Brennan.

Groaning, he turned his head, and the physical pain was almost welcome.

Finally his dazed brain registered some things on the table next to the couch, but he had to blink a few times to focus. Then, almost against his will, a fragile smile tugged at his lips.

There was a glass of water waiting next to some painkillers. Granted, that was useful and matched her reasonable nature. But she had placed one more object next to the ensemble, and he knew it by heart. Illuminated by the first light of the new morning, a little plastic figurine was looking at him.

Jasper.

The pig that had said, "You will be okay."

And okay he would be.

Okay _they_ would be.

To be continued...

_Let's just assume that she did not drink too much to drive._


	20. Sixth Year: Heart Muscles and Mistletoes

_Happy Saturday :-)_

The Sixth Year: Heart Muscles and Mistletoes

"_To family... friends... lovers... family... and food.__"_

The dark air was full of dancing snowflakes, fluffy and feathery, and despite the cold outside, Booth felt nothing but warmth. That kind of warmth which starts right in the middle of your belly and spreads out until every cell in your body is humming in contentment.

The Christmas kind of warmth.

With Parker out of town and no family holiday obligations, this could have been one pathetic and sad event. Instead it turned out to be a lovely day with great food, surrounded by friends.

And her.

Drying the dishes next to her, Booth cast his partner a quick glance. She looked stunning, even with rubber gloves and an apron wrapped around her gracious body. Her hair was curlier than usual, framing her porcelain face like a curtain of dark silk. So pretty.

Then blue met brown, and he looked away quickly.

"Booth, you're staring at me."

'Damn it.'

"Na, I'm not, Bones. Why would I stare at you?"

'Because you look freaking beautiful tonight? Like every incarnation of my personal Christmas miracle?'

"Even though I've become quite adept in sensing your intentions, I have no idea. Tell me," she demanded.

'No idea? Hmm, maybe I should tell you how stunning you look tonight, how your eyes sparkle brighter than your Christmas tree? Or maybe not.'

"Uh, you have suds on your cheek," he rescued himself.

"Huh?"

She frowned.

"That's impossible, I didn't even touch my face."

"Wait, let me help you."

Booth approached her with the dish towel in his hand, and Brennan retreated immediately. With a smirk on his face, Booth followed her, and within moments he had her caught in his left arm and wiped the supposed suds off her face. She squealed adorably and wriggled in his hold. A whiff of her exquisite perfume hit his nostrils, and Booth inhaled deeply, tempted to prolong the moment but fully aware that he ran out of excuses to hold her. He granted himself one more heartbeat before he released her, and without warning she slapped him with her rubber-gloved hand.

"That was unnecessary," she pouted, and he had to laugh.

Temperance Brennan was a lot of things, and over the years Booth had learned to appreciate every single one of it – but his personal favorite was her cute cluelessness. The wrinkles on her face whenever she did not know what something meant, the questioning look in her clear eyes, often followed by a pout. Maybe it was the wine or the easy mood of Christmas, but tonight Booth found himself more defenseless than usual against her charms.

"Come on, Bones, that was fun," he finally smiled.

"Fun? Oh, I know something else that could be fun, then."

Before he could blink, she had turned around to the sink and splashed a handful of soapy water into his face. Now it was his turn to be dumbstruck, and her frame was shaking with laughter, the throaty sound he loved so much.

"You're right, this _is_ fun!"

He dried himself with the towel in his hands and couldn't help but join in her laughter. Still giggling, Brennan missed the second when his chocolate brown eyes turned mischievously dark, and before she could rescue herself, he wrapped his left arm around her waist and gathered water in his right palm.

"Oh, Booth, don't you dare..."

Before she even had a chance to finish her sentence, soapy water was splashed into her face, and she gasped. She felt chuckles rolling through his solid body, and when he lowered his hand to the sink anew, Brennan freed herself with a quick twist. It was a simple move, basic self-defense, and his counter-attack was mere instinct.

A moment later he was lying on his back, her hard floor underneath his aching spine and stunned blue eyes looking at him. Water drops dripped from her face onto his own, and Booth felt every ounce of her soft weight on top of him.

"Well," she cleared her throat, "this is an unexpected outcome."

"Yeah," he admitted, "I'm rather surprised myself. You attacked me!"

"No, I just tried to protect myself."

"That worked well," he teased.

"At least I'm lying on top of you. So, Booth, who won?"

Instead of answering, Booth locked his arms behind her head and rolled them around until he was sprawled over her. The smug remark died on his lips, though, because a second later he realized that he was lying on top of his partner. His hips were nestled between her parted legs, her head was resting safely in his palms, the soft curls caressing his skin. Her face only inches away. Booth could feel her heaving chest touching his own, and her eyes searched his. Her voice was soft when she spoke.

"This is unexpected as well..."

"Hmm. I better get up."

His words were followed by nothing but motionlessness, though, and Brennan surprised him by wrapping her arms around his back and pulling him further down. Booth felt his eyes shut on a will of their own, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck until he was surrounded by her scent. Her hands were traveling over his back, and the intimacy of the moment was overwhelming.

"Bones, what is this?" he finally whispered, and her voice was equally soft.

"It's the horizontal version of a guy hug, I suppose..."

"Hmm, okay," he sighed and enjoyed the softness of her body under his own for one more minute.

Eventually, another part of his anatomy reacted to their closeness, and Booth shifted before she would notice it. He and Bones might be able to ignore the truth, but his body recognized her for what she was, for what she could be to him, and, reluctantly, he lifted himself to his feet again, offering her his hand. She accepted it, and the faint rosy color of her cheeks told him that she wasn't unaffected, either. Gently, he brushed a curl out of her face and cleared his throat.

"I think, there are more dishes waiting for us."

"Yes, right," she agreed, grateful for the distraction. "Let's finish them."

-BONES-

He had stayed.

It had been a Christmas gathering full of warmth and laughter, and after everybody had left, Booth had stayed as if it was the most natural thing in the world. One more glass of wine later, he had offered helping her with the dishes, and here they were.

Brennan didn't really know how they could end up on the floor, but the situation had taken her aback with its... yes, what had it been? Rightness?

Her hands in the warm water, Brennan tried to identify the feelings that had consumed her body just a few minutes ago. Her partner was a good-looking man, and it was only natural that her body had reacted with arousal to his proximity. However... there had been something else as well. She had wanted the moment to last. Despite the hard floor and the awkwardness it had felt cozy somehow. Good. Promising.

It hadn't been a guy hug, that was for certain, but he had asked her to label something she couldn't even grasp in its entirety.

It had been them.

Another shade of them. One that was still more a maybe than anything else...

They worked in silence next to each other, and soon the last spoon was dried and put away. Smoothing his shirt with his hands, Booth nodded towards the door.

"It's late. Maybe I should go," he stated with little conviction.

Taking a tiny step in his direction, Brennan came to a halt very close to her partner. He could almost feel her sweet breath on his face and risked a quick upwards glance. 'One could always hope,' he mused, but of course there was no mistletoe dangling above them. Understanding him fully, she whispered,

"Next to the window."

His gaze flew to the window, spotting the desired green, and back to her face.

She shrugged.

"The view must be spectacular with the snow and altogether. Wanna take a look before you leave?"

There was something in her bright eyes he couldn't quite name, but Booth knew exactly what she had just offered. And it had nothing to do with the snowflakes.

Taking her hand, he guided her to her big window front, stopping directly underneath the mistletoe. Without wasting as much as a glance at the scenery, he brought his palms to her face, gently cupping her cheeks. She was hot to his touch and so soft. Her own arms came around his midsection, and their bellies met when both of them took a step towards each other.

Then there was no way back, and the only reasonable thing was lowering his head until he could feel the rosiness of her lips against his own. He brushed them gently, once, twice, and when a little sigh escaped her, he caught the vibration with his mouth. Sliding one hand around her head until it was buried in her hair, Booth grazed her lower lip with his tongue, waiting for her invitation. Her hold around his waist tightened, and then her lips parted, letting him all in.

His caressing tongue was welcomed by her own, and they greeted each other in a dance of velvet and sensuality.

It was Christmas, and every Christmas a wonderful sprout called mistletoe justifies one kiss. Some years ago the puckish side of Caroline Julian had forced them to become intimately familiar with the tradition, and today Brennan and Booth were determined to make the most of their one kiss. After all, it was kind of a freebie.

One kiss that didn't have to be rationalized, one kiss that did not endanger the complexity of their partnership. One kiss that didn't have to mean everything.

He was kissing her with endless affection, and she took what he had to offer, giving it right back. For once she was able to respond, to reciprocate, and with eyes closed, Brennan let him consume her. He wasn't even holding her properly, his hands still on her face and in her hair, but his tenderness embraced her with gentle force. He was everywhere and everything, and right here, right now this was all that she wanted and needed. Kissing him. Feeling him.

Brennan poured all the words she hadn't found, all the things she hadn't said, all the times she had to break his gaze into her kiss, and someplace deep down she knew that he understood her, that he accepted it.

The kiss lasted for a long time, but, eventually, they had to breathe and broke apart, panting heavily. In an attempt to prolong the connection, Booth pressed his forehead to hers, and their breaths mingled.

A minute or five later, he lifted his head and found her sparkling eyes. His heart skipped a beat at her utter perfection, and he was helpless against the words that tumbled out of his heart.

"You were right, the view is spectacular."

There was no mistake about his meaning, and she blushed slightly.

"Tonight it is even better than usual," she finally confessed, and he pecked her lips again in a featherlight hint of a kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Bones."

"Booth..."

Gnawing her lower lip, Brennan was torn between reason and longing.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," she finally said.

"Because of the mistletoe?" he asked.

"Because it is still Christmas, and... you don't have to be alone at Christmas. _I_ don't want to be alone."

_Max told me that being alone at Christmas means that nobody loves you._

Her words were loud and clear in his head, and his decision was made in a heartbeat. Taking her hands in his own, he caressed her knuckles with his thumb.

"You won't be alone at Christmas. _Ne__ver_. You know that, don't you? And, please, don't get me wrong, but... I'm proud of you, Temperance. The funeral, this dinner, everything. You've given a lot of happiness today."

She smiled at him, her chest expanding at his words.

"But you were the one who got the toast right."

"Those were just words. The spirit has already been there. _You_ have made it."

Her face softened until he could look straight into her core.

"Thank you, Booth. You are awfully nice to me."

He shrugged with a smirk.

"You are awfully nice to me as well."

"You're staying, then?"

"Until you kick me out. Wine, couch and a heart-crushing Christmas movie?"

"Sounds great. Why don't you choose a movie while I fetch the wine?"

Nodding, he released her hands with a final squeeze and headed away to find her laptop.

"By the way, you really need a new TV," he yelled in her general direction, starting her computer.

When she joined him a few minutes later, he had already placed the laptop on her couch table and spread out a soft blanket for her. Lifting his head, he almost swallowed his smile, though, as he saw not only two wine glasses in her hands but the green mistletoe as well. She shrugged innocently.

"Just in case, Booth."

-BONES-

The early December sun found two sleeping creatures on a couch in a big loft in Washington D.C. The woman's make-up was slightly smeared, but even in slumber she was glowing in almost ethereal beauty. The man next to her was smiling in his dreams, his face smooth and at peace. Her head was lying on his shoulder, and she was wrapped in a blanket and his arms.

Sometime during their movie, Temperance Brennan and Seeley Booth had fallen asleep in the comfort of each other – and if they had shared one or two more kisses because of the magic of the night, the Ghosts of Christmas kept their secret.

To be continued...


	21. Sixth Year: Miss Rolex and her Dummy

_Thanks to my twitter ladies who helped me with the question if she felt her nipples harden or hardening. ;-)_

The Sixth Year: Miss Rolex and her Dummy

"_Even with all of the financial and intellectual contradictions, I still feel close to you."_

"My watch is ruined!"

"What do you mean your watch is ruined? It's a Rolex!"

"And I'm soaked! Booth, I think we made a mistake."

"Jeez, Bones, you don't say."

Tearing her eyes from her wet shirt, Brennan gave her smirking partner a sarcastic look.

"I'm fully aware of your use of irony."

"I'm glad 'cause I couldn't have been less subtle," he chuckled.

Reaching under the sink, Booth turned off the spraying water.

"What now?" she asked.

He looked from his wet partner to the uncooperative pipe and sighed.

"I'll call the plumber."

For a moment his handsome features were twisted in frustration, and Brennan felt a sudden pang of sadness for the man next to her. If only he would continue teasing her; even that was better than his wistfulness.

"If it's any consolation for you, I couldn't have done it, either, and I found this lesson quite educational," she tried to reassure him.

"Yeah, well, that's no use," he stated with one more sigh.

He hated it. Really and truly hated it.

Very early in his life, Seeley Booth had learned the importance of independence, and not being able to fix things by himself stirred memories of a long buried past when he had been small and helpless. And ever since he had met Temperance Brennan, his knowledge had gotten a whole new value.

Being partnered with the smartest person in the world – of course she would correct him and tell him who exactly on earth had the highest IQ – could lead to self-doubt and an inferiority complex. The only things that had saved him had been his cockiness and superiority in certain fields, and the loss of one of it hurt.

He didn't even know if she had really wanted to learn about plumbing or if she had just done it for him, if it had been her own awkward way of reaching out to him, but Booth suspected that not asking was for the best. Teaching her had felt good.

It always did.

He cast a sideways glance at his partner, and instantly his irritation subsided. Her pale blue shirt was soaked, and wet tresses were dangling next to her long earrings. It was... kind of cute, he decided.

"You want a shower?"

"No, thanks, I just had one," she stated dryly, and he had to laugh.

The deep sound of his laughter eased her somehow, and the furrowed skin on her forehead smoothed.

"A new shirt would be nice, though," she added softly.

"Sure thing. You need pants as well?"

Looking down at her anthracite-colored trousers, she shook her head.

"No, they seem to be dry. Just a shirt, please."

"Of course. Hang on."

He left her alone on the floor and came back with a black shirt shortly after.

"It's probably too big, but it'll work as long as your own dries. Towels are in the bathroom."

Accepting the piece of clothing, Brennan lifted herself to her feet.

"Okay. Don't flood anything else in the meantime."

"Very funny," he growled, and her giggles accompanied her on the way to the bathroom.

-BONES-

It smelled like him.

Alone in her partner's bathroom, Brennan peeled off her own shirt and brought his one to her nose. It smelled like him. Clean and spicy and male. She found traces of detergent and his aftershave in the fabric, but there was something else as well, and even though it was completely irrational, this 'something else' smelled like comfort and warmth and home.

It smelled like him.

Her bra was soaked as well, and Brennan debated for a moment if she should remove it, but in the end discomfort won and she unclasped the lacy garment. At least it would dry quickly, and maybe Booth wouldn't recognize its absence. Or maybe she wanted him to recognize it...

Brennan wasn't sure, but when she pulled her partner's shirt over her naked torso, the sensation stole her breath for a moment.

Anthropologically speaking, there was a whole world of meaning behind wearing the clothes of a specific male, but the person reacting to the achingly familiar scent and the soft fabric wasn't an anthropologist; it was a woman.

Her pale skin was covered with goosebumps, and she felt her nipples hardening, pressing against the shirt that usually enveloped his broad chest. Looking into the mirror, she found out that her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and when she freed her damp ponytail from the hair tie, encouraging the tresses to curl around her face, Brennan told herself that it was because of the involuntary shower and not because of a particular fantasy he had once revealed to her.

She felt... _something_.

And this something was exciting and unfamiliar.

Shaking her head so that the auburn hair waved around her face, Brennan felt her thumping heart when she reached for the doorknob.

Opening the door.

"Hey, Bones, I thought we could drink a beer while..."

His mouth fell open, as he forgot his words at the sight of her.

Instantly and instinctively he reacted to the picture of his beautiful partner in a man's shirt. No, not only a man's shirt. _His_ shirt. Briefly it crossed his mind that there was probably an anthropological explanation for it, but, truth be told, he didn't really care.

She looked stunning.

The shirt was simple, way too big for her and ended mid-thigh, but there was nothing simple about the wave of protectiveness that swept through his chest. Her hair fell freely and curly onto her shoulders, and there was an almost ethereal glow around her face. And – _oh my God_ – she didn't wear a bra!

Booth swallowed hard and tried to close his mouth. He knew that he was staring at her in a highly inappropriate way, but, for the sake of everything that was holy, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

"You have changed."

His brain registered her voice but not the meaning.

Changed? No, he was still the same. _Oh_, his shirt!

"Yeah, Bones, I've gotten wet."

'Very intelligent, Seeley, congratulations.'

"Ahem, you want a beer?"

"Sure," she nodded and sashayed in his direction.

Turning around to the fridge, Booth tried to get a grip, tried to hide his reaction from her. What he didn't know was that she had already noticed it. Everything. The way his pupils had widened, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, an involuntary shift in his pelvis region.

She had noticed it – and reveled in it.

When he came back with two bottles of beer a moment later, he had regained his composure, and a part of her – the one with the flushed cheeks and unruly hair – was almost disappointed.

He gave her a bottle and led her to the couch, all the way keeping his gaze above her shoulder level.

"Thanks, Booth, for the beer and the shirt."

"You're welcome. It suits you," he murmured.

She arched an eyebrow at him, a playful smile around her rosy lips.

"The beer or the shirt."

He smiled.

"Both."

There was a simple truth about it. This woman, his partner, was a world-renowned anthropologist and a successful bestselling author. Booth didn't fit into her world – he felt it, and the realization nagged at him – but right, here right now, clad in his favorite shirt, sipping her beer, she fit into his world. Somehow, for a tiny stolen moment, she _was_ his.

"Booth," she hesitated, "I meant what I said earlier. The money I have is just a number. A number that allows me to buy nice things, granted, but it doesn't keep me warm or safe. At least not in the way you are able to do it."

And his heart started to melt...

"You can keep the book, it is a gift," she continued. "I didn't want to offend you in any way. I," she gnawed at her lower lip, "I just wanted to do it right."

… melted until it was a puddle in front of her feet.

Very gently he tapped her chin so that she had to look into his eyes. He found honesty and insecurity in her blue orbs... and so much more.

"You did it right, Bones," he whispered. "I feel close to you as well."

A slow smile appeared on her face, tugging tentatively at her lips until it reached her bright eyes, and he felt it in his core.

"I want to apologize that I made you feel guilty about your money. That was unfair and immature. You've earned it and you shouldn't feel bad about it. After all, it's not who you are."

"And who am I?"

The words had left her lips before she could stop them, but he didn't release her chin or her gaze. And now it was his turn to give her a contagious smile.

"You are my new favorite student."

'My partner. My best friend. My truth. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen. The brightest light in my life.'

The list was long, but he didn't dare to say it, didn't dare to take back the "atta-girl kind of way".

Seeley Booth was a honest man, one that had always gone with his guts. And deep down he saw what she was, but tonight was not the right time to tell her.

He knew that, eventually, he would show his heart to her, it was inevitable and the right thing, but, to begin with, he had to learn a thing or two about plumbing.

The lesson of love would have to wait.

To be continued...

_Just for the record, we all know that he fits into her world just as much as she into his. They complement each other._


	22. Seventh Year: A Relative Position

_Amazing ep! And I wholeheartedly agree with Sweets characterization of Booth. There are some people that don't break beyond repair._

The Seventh Year: A Relative Position

"_I don't go there anymore. It's over.__"_

Torn.

He was so torn.

One minute he was racing her to the coffee cart, laughing with her, making plans to attend a lecture. To her surprise just as much as to his own. Carefree and high-spirited. Almost like... well, his former self.

Then she was standing too close, confusing him with her rationality, and he got angry. So angry and hurt again.

Up and down – that's what it felt like.

All the freaking time.

Up and down went his stomach when he saw her; regardless if she wore a gray jogging outfit with a bobbing ponytail or her composed burgundy coat.

Up and down went his adrenaline when he thought about this case and his past. It hit close to home. Too close.

Up and down went his heart when the squinty words that left her mouth transformed into something which meant, "I know you. I care about you. I think highly of you."

And up and down went his hope when he heard her say that she would always stand right beside him.

He really and truly didn't want to go there anymore, he was so tired of analyzing her, understanding her, but... she was reaching out to him, and he could _feel_ it.

Once she had told him that she had gotten the signal, and now... now he was getting hers. Loud and clear.

Seeley Booth was torn.

-BONES-

Temperance Brennan was scared.

Irrationally scared.

That kind of scared that happens when your heart is too big and warm because of someone else. This case was bothering Booth, and she wanted to understand it, to be there for him, but he always shut her out. As soon as she mentioned his sniper past, his eyes turned to a darker shade of brown, and he dismissed her.

Obviously, she was doing it wrong, and Brennan was so scared of not finding the right way to soothe his pain.

His pain that was hers as well because of her fuzzy heart that started to beat faster whenever she was near him.

_Brain chemistry_, that's what she had called it not so long ago in a former life. Except that the way she was feeling right now didn't remind her of brain chemistry at all. Well, she didn't have a reference value, but it felt big and warm and... painful. Because he – still or again – hurt.

She did trust him, more than anybody else, but these days she wasn't sure if she could trust herself anymore. The ground she was walking – no, dancing – on felt foreign, and the fear to fall was still present, but she had to be there. She had to be next to him. Wherever that would be.

And that did scare her.

But she wouldn't run anymore. At least not from him.

-BONES-

He had made her laugh. About a joke that only she would interpret as a joke, but her delight, her deep throaty laughter had tugged at his own lips as well, and this time nothing had gone down.

When Booth awoke the next morning, his stomach felt steady. There was warmth surrounding his chest like a cozy blanket, and it was this soft feeling of contentment that made him hit the speed dial key on his cell.

She met him by the entrance of the park, and this time she was clad in gray pants and a pale pink top. The ponytail was there as well. Golden sunrays were caressing the bare skin of her arms, and her face lit up like the reflection of light in the nearby pond when she spotted him.

A Brennan smile just for him. It used to be the best thing in the world... before everything or nothing happened. However, despite the whisper of caution in his head, he felt himself reacting to her bright face, and an old chamber deep inside of him cracked open. Just a tad, but it was a beginning. It was enough to enlighten the darkness, enough to banish the freezing cold. And there was a thump – soft and silent – when something started to beat again.

It was painful at first, like the way your numb fingers hurt when you wrap them around a cup of hot tea after a winter day's snowball fight. Painful like the tingling in your left leg after you had held it still for too long.

It was the kind of pain which means that something starts to live again.

He met her smile with a beaming one of his own and nudged her shoulder with his.

"Okay, Bones, since you insist that I didn't win the other way, let's have a fair race today. Or do you even want an advance?"

He arched a playful eyebrow at her, and, as expected, she protested with a pout of insult.

"You did _not_ win the other day, and I can beat you easily on my own, thank you very much."

Chuckling, he slapped her back, and the softness of her skin didn't go by unnoticed.

"Okay, let's start then."

And so they ran.

The steady sound of their footfalls, the sun on their faces, fresh air in their lungs. They ran, and it was liberating, renewing and... fun. It was fun. Seeley Booth had fun with Temperance Brennan, and this time the ache in his chest wasn't a metaphorical one but one that was caused by the exercise alone.

It was one more pain that reminded him how alive he was, and, surrounded by the beauty of the day and her, he could let go of the old anger.

He was Seeley Booth. He was the child of an abusive father. He was a former sniper who had taken many lives, and the ghosts of his actions were still haunting him. He was the daddy of a beautiful little boy. He was the partner of the best forensic anthropologist in the whole country. And Canada. He was outstanding in his job. He believed in God and justice. He was a man who had loved and lost in his life. Three times. And he was a man who believed in love. Still.

Pain, regret, faith and love – he was all of it, and the sum of it made him who he was. And for the very first time in ages he actually felt like a sum again. Whole and complete. No missing pieces in his stomach, no dull holes in his chest. Of course, there were scars, but they belonged to the sum as well. They didn't define who he was. They were just a part of him. Like the vibrant energy that was flooding through his veins right now and like the rhythm of hope which his heart had found again.

He was it. Everything.

A roaring sound of laughter filled the air, and Booth needed a moment to realize that it was his own. He could hear Brennan's fast breath next to him, her small feet hitting the pavement in a way that complemented his own. As always.

"Why are you laughing?"

Her words came fast and sounded as breathless as he felt.

"Because I feel good."

Teeny, tiny words, and she accepted them as the truth. Thinking of it, Booth mused, she had accepted a lot recently. Once, in a night that he preferred not to remember too clearly, she had told him that she couldn't change, but, he thought, sometime between then and now she had falsified her own statement.

The woman running next to him wasn't the one who had been running _from_ him more than a year ago. And then again. The woman next to him was laughing as well, a laughter that brightened her eyes. One that had put herself by his metaphorical side despite usually being a very literal person.

Distracted by his musings, Booth missed the moment when the coffee cart came in sight, and suddenly Brennan was in front of him, racing mercilessly towards their aim. He didn't exactly let her win, but he didn't feel in the mood to try too hard, either.

"I won!"

Throwing her arms up in the air, Brennan jumped around like a delighted child, and the unadulterated joy of it warmed his insides even further.

"You have to buy coffee now!"

"Yeah, you won. Congrats. Shouldn't the gracious winner buy the coffee?"

"Forget it. You might be a gracious winner – I am not. Come on, be a gracious loser for a change."

Bumping into his side, she tried to push him in the direction of the coffee cart, but she caught him off-guard, and he stumbled. A fearful moment later he felt her arms around him, slippery from her fresh sweat, but oh so steady.

"Jeez, don't knock me down, woman. I'll play the gracious loser part."

Unsettled by her physical closeness, he tried to wriggle out of her hold, and her arms slumped, a flicker of insecurity and defeat in her pale blue orbs. His breath hitched.

"Bones..."

Her name left his lips on a whisper of rawness.

"This is still too close."

"I understand."

Avoiding his gaze, she stepped away from him, putting some distance between their overheated bodies.

"And this is... too far away."

Her eyes flew to his, searching for the meaning behind his words.

"I'm not sure that I know what that means."

"This," he gestured at the distance between them, "is the way it had been for too long."

Inhaling deeply, he took a big step towards her.

"This is what I can offer you right now. And this," his gaze held hers while he looked at her openly and fully, his hand reaching out to her, "is the direction I can show you."

A smile started in the middle of her chest, and when it reached her face, she slipped her tiny hand into his big one. His rough fingers curled around hers, and the birds' twitter silenced along with the laughter of the people around them, as they felt their connection.

The center... it was centered again.

To be continued...

_Warm and fuzzy? Same here :-)_


	23. Fifth Year: Two Forks

_With this chapter I'll pass the 50.000 words mark. I really didn't see that coming when I started this story. Thanks to all of you who are still reading and encouraging me. It means a lot to me._

The Fifth Year: Two Forks

"_Do you need time and space?__"_

Gnawing her lower lip, Brennan looked at her partner. His last words were still hanging in the air, heavy like a gray cloud that is about to explode with thick, cleansing raindrops.

_My dad drank. _

Never before had Booth mentioned the darker parts of his childhood, never bared those scars on his soul to her. Some years ago a confession like that would have scared the shit out of her, but after four years with Booth, she had gained a strange intuition when it came to her partner. Why had it failed her so much this time? How could she have misjudged this man so badly – after everything he had done for her, everything she knew about him?

Her speech about the alpha male came back to her mind. Yeah, Brennan herself had been dazzled by the disguise of a shiny uniform, by the pretense of success. She vowed to herself that she would never ever think low of her partner again – regardless of what might happen in the future.

Reaching out her good arm, she touched his hand lightly.

"I'm sorry, Booth."

He shrugged it off.

"Not your fault."

"I want to apologize for the errors in my judgment one more time. I... I don't know why I did believe your brother. Why I did not listen to my faith in you."

Booth turned his head to take her in, and the lost-little-girl look on her face combined with her injured arm almost broke him. He sighed. Whatever she might do, he would always forgive her. Still, it hurt. That she had fallen for his brother's charm. Believed whatever crappy story Jared had told her.

"I'd like to say that it is okay, but, Bones, out of all the people in this world, _you_ are the one who should have known better," he admitted on a whisper.

She bowed her head in shame.

"I know."

"What happened between the two of you?"

Even though he was afraid to ask, Booth had to know.

"I punched him."

She dreaded answering his question as much as he dreaded her answer.

"And before that?" he uttered between pressed teeth.

"He... he kissed me," she whispered in defeat.

Booth nodded.

"And?"

"No 'and'. That's it, Booth, I swear."

"Was it good?"

His dark eyes bore into her pale blue ones, looking straight into her soul.

"It was different."

'Different than kissing you in the rain or underneath a mistletoe.'

"He's not like you, Booth and will never be."

Angela had called him "Booth lite", but that was somehow wrong as well. Aside from a similar symmetrical structure the two brothers didn't seem to have that much in common.

He took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Bones. I know that I have no right to ask, after all, we're just partners..."

"No, Booth, no," she interrupted him. "I can't explain it, and it doesn't make any sense, but I feel as if you have every right to ask. I shouldn't have gone out with him, and I shouldn't have let him kiss me."

Her eyes shone with honesty, and, somehow, it comforted him. He nudged her leg with his own.

"Thanks for the cake."

He gave her a loop-sided smile, and she returned it wholeheartedly as a burden of guilt was lifted from her heart. His eyes still possessed an uncharacteristic darkness, but he looked at her without hiding anything. Brennan chastised herself one more time for not sensing his discomfort when she had agreed to accompany Jared the other evening.

"Are we okay, Booth?"

Regarding her silently, he finally nodded with a sigh.

"Yeah. We will be."

-BONES-

Later, much later that night, the anger came back. Lying alone in his dark bedroom, Booth fought against the blinding cloud of fury in his head. For all his life, he had taken the responsibility for the mess his brother had left behind. When he had grown up, the feeling of injustice had so much been weaved into every cell of his being that he hadn't recognized it anymore, that his insides had stopped to protest sharply.

Tonight, the voice of little Seeley came back, and it only had one thing to say.

_It isn't fair._

It wasn't fair that he had sacrificed his one shot at glory, but Booth could live with that. It wasn't fair that Jared had appeared in the lab and Angela had been drooling all over him. He could live with that as well. However, what he absolutely could not tolerate was the fact that she, Brennan, had fallen for it. That wasn't fair. She was... his.

She was his partner, his friend, his mission. His reason, his Yin. His.

Jared couldn't have her, not her body, not her trust.

It wasn't fair that – if only briefly – his brother had taken from him what was solely his. What was, aside from Parker, the most important person in his life.

It wasn't fair that she had... betrayed him.

She who knew so much about abandonment and betrayal; she who knew so much about him.

The anger built inside of him until Booth thought he might burst. Following an irrational impulse, he jumped out of his bed, put on a pair of sweatpants and rushed to his car.

Because it wasn't fair, and suddenly he had to tell her.

-BONES-

Brennan awoke with a start, and for a moment her mind was fogged due to the painkillers she had taken. There was a sound. A knock. Casting a glance at the clock on her bedside table, she sighed. There was only one person who would knock at her door at 1 am in the morning. And tonight his knock sounded definitely angry.

Leaving the warm nest of her bed, Brennan headed towards her door, preparing herself to face the storm.

"Hi Boo-"

Not even awaiting her greeting, he rushed past her, twisting his hands.

"You are angry," she whispered even before he turned around to show her his face. His eyes were glistening with dark rage, his features twisted.

"Damn right. You know, I was lying there in my bed, thinking to myself, 'Relax, Seeley, you know the game, you're used to it. It's okay.' Guess what? It isn't. It isn't _fair_."

Bowing her head, Brennan nodded.

"No, it isn't..."

"I mean, I know him, I know who he is, but you, _you_, Temperance."

He came dangerously close to her, cornering her.

"I know you as well. And you should know me! How could you?"

"I... I thought I was following the evidence."

"The evidence was wrong, Bones, wrong!"

"I know," she whispered, reaching out her good hand to touch his arm. However light the touch was, he flinched, and she dropped her arm in defeat.

"I am so sorry, Booth. I was wrong."

The mighty Temperance Brennan admitting that she had been wrong – under different circumstances it could have been a field day, but right now her apology couldn't really calm him.

"Damn straight. I mean, I don't really care about the praise or the others, but you, you! Your opinion is important. _You_ are important!"

Finally, she lifted her head and met the furious darkness of his eyes with pale blue softness.

"You are equally important. So important that it scares me sometimes," she confessed.

"But why, why would you betray me like this if I was really that important? Why?"

She could feel his angry breath on her face, and she hurt for him. More than everything in the world, Brennan wanted to make it right again.

"Because sometimes I'm just a stupid scientist too scared to believe that someone as good as you can actually exist. Sometimes... I'm fifteen again."

Her honesty formed a lump in his throat, and Booth swallowed hard against the weakness that threatened to replace the anger.

"All my life, always... he has always gotten everything. He cannot have you. Not you."

His voice broke on the last word, and one more time Brennan dared lifting her hand until she could feel the hot skin of his cheek in her palm.

"He doesn't have me. Never had. I'm with you, Booth, always."

A curtain of moisture appeared in his eyes as despair fought with fury, and she saw it. Caressing his face with gentle strokes, Brennan continued,

"He doesn't have a wonderful son like Parker. He doesn't have a friend like Cam. He never had me, Booth. He doesn't know me. You do. And I know you. I just... forgot briefly. Please, forgive me..."

Blinking hard against the moisture in his eyes, Booth was about to lose to the tears when he felt her warm body pressed against his. It wasn't really a hug – with her right arm immobilized – but Brennan slid her left hand around his nape and simply pulled his head into the tempting valley where her head met her shoulder. The valley of comfort.

Buried in the intimate spot, his tears finally broke free, and heavy sobs shook his big frame. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Booth clung to her with everything he had, and... he mourned.

He mourned about the little boy who had never gotten his shot at fairness, he mourned about the grown-up man with the little boy's heart who had worked so hard for something he would never be rewarded for. He mourned about sad birthdays and Christmases, and he mourned about the memory of kissing his partner that was now replaced by the mental image of Jared kissing her, and in the end, when his tears had formed a damp spot on the cozy fabric of her pajama top, he mourned about his brother as well; the boy who had grown up knowing that he could never be as honest and strong as his older brother.

Sometime during his breakdown his knees had given way, and he had slumped to the ground, taking her with him. When the sobs subsided, when the sharp pain in his chest was replaced by something soft and warm, Booth found himself curled up on the floor, his arms still around her waist, his head in her lap. Her fingers were combing through his hair, massaging his scalp, and soothing nonsense left her lips.

She radiated comfort, and suddenly he was so terribly tired. Booth knew that he should probably collect the shattered pieces of his dignity and leave, but something about the way she cradled him went straight into his core, silencing the old and nagging feeling of injustice.

Shifting his head, he met her eyes, and underneath her own exhaustion he found reassurance and acceptance.

Lost for words, he tried a smile.

"Are you feeling better?" she whispered.

He nodded.

"Yes. Embarrassed, unmanly, but... better. Thanks, Bones. For being there. For being you."

"Always, Booth."

Giving her slender form a final squeeze, Booth disentangled himself from her and got up from the floor, offering her a hand. She accepted it without hesitation.

"I should go."

Brennan simply shook her head and tightened her hold on his hand, dragging him in the direction of her bedroom.

"No. If you are only half as exhausted as I am, you shouldn't drive. Besides... I feel the need to hold you tonight."

"Bones..."

Stopping, she turned around to look into his eyes.

"Please, Booth. You look pretty scared, and I want to hug you. Let me hug you."

"Bones..."

Sensing his reluctance, she furrowed her brow.

"Something else is bothering you. Please, tell me, Booth."

"You kissed him..."

Booth wasn't sure if he could explain it, but somehow she understood him and surprised him one more time this night by closing the distance between their bodies. Her rosy lips brushed over his own, erasing everything else.

"It didn't mean anything, Booth. Really. Jared is... not you," she whispered close to his mouth, and finally he believed her.

"You're ready to come to bed now?"

Nodding, he followed her gentle lead, and when he stepped into her dark bedroom, it seemed as if his burden had been left behind, finally buried.

Slipping under the covers, Brennan draw him close and placed his head on her uninjured left shoulder. Snuggling into her body, Booth thought about the million times he had fantasized about sharing a bed with his partner. This was so unlike every dream he had ever had, but tonight it was everything he needed, and, for once in his life, this strong man surrendered himself to taking what she had to offer; taking her embrace of understanding, caring and acceptance.

"Thank you, Temperance."

He felt her lips on the crown of his head.

"No, thank you, Booth. For trusting me enough to come back. For trusting me at all."

"Always," he murmured before sleepiness got the best of him.

Despite her own exhaustion, Brennan tried to stay awake, tried to file away everything that she felt. Gratitude was part of it, gratitude that she had been able to ease his pain. Relief that he had forgiven her was in the mix as well. It all mingled with comfort because the comfort she had given was somehow mirrored and warmed her own heart. But it was the last part, the secret ingredient, that made this moment truly special.

It was something so dazzling that she couldn't name it. Something in the way her insides reacted to his familiar scent and the weight of his head on her shoulder. Something about the sum of them that was stronger that every single part of it alone.

It was... something like two forks.

To be continued...


	24. Seventh Year: The Pain in the Promise

The Seventh Year: The Pain in the Promise

"_One year from today..._"

A promise is a commitment by someone to do or not do something.

Brennan's finger traced the printed letters in her dictionary as if she could erase them or change their meaning. She knew what a promise was, of course she did; she just had trouble with the concept in general right now.

Because one year ago she had made a promise.

Today was the day; the day where she and Booth were supposed to meet at the reflecting pool, right by the coffee cart. However, Brennan had made her promise to a man who had looked at her with deep concern and tender affection. A man who had been her partner, her best friend and so much more. A man who had loved her.

Sighing, Brennan closed the old dictionary and put in back on her book shelf.

She had given her promise to a man _she_ had loved. Holding his hand, captured by his gaze, her heart had clenched violently. She hadn't really wanted to go, but how could she have stayed? Her love for Booth, regardless of how hard she had tried to ignore it, had been overwhelming and scary.

One year later everything had changed.

He didn't look at her anymore with the hunch of warmth in his brown depths that had been reserved solely for her, and he didn't love her anymore. Sometime between then and now he had fallen out of love and in love again – with Hannah. Now that she was gone there wasn't warmth or love in his gaze at all. These days his eyes looked dark and angry.

Love was ephemeral, Brennan had always known it, and the last year should have strengthened her conviction. Problem was, she didn't believe it anymore because the one thing that hadn't changed was her love for him. Only that she knew it now. It was still scary, but she had learned to cope with scary.

If only she could turn back the hands of time, if only he could love her again...

One year ago Booth had made a promise as well, but, leaving her apartment with a bag and her car keys in her hands, Brennan doubted that he would feel bound to keep it right now. However, she couldn't break it. Full circle. It was necessary.

-BONES-

The air was fresh and smelled like spring. The park was full of people who enjoyed the mild Saturday weather, but their usual bench was empty, and Brennan took a seat, taking a first sip of her coffee.

They had been sitting in the exact same spot when she had told Booth that she would go to Maluku for a year...

_So, hey, what's a year? – It's the time it takes the earth to make a full revolution around the sun. _

Brennan had learned that sometimes a year is something that cannot be measured in time alone.

Kisses had been shared, a baby had been made, but it all excluded her. Her own life was saturated with the dusty taste of standstill while everyone else around her was riding a roller coaster of emotions. It was exactly what she hadn't been able to accept one year ago, and it was everything that she yearned for right now.

Looking around in the spring warm park, Brennan knew that Booth wouldn't come. He had lost his faith in promises, wasn't _that guy_ anymore.

It hurt, more than she had thought it would, and she tightened her hold around her coffee cup. She didn't blame him, after all, it was more her own fault than anything else.

'What now?' Brennan asked herself, and despite her mistrust in gut feelings, she listened to that voice deep inside of her that told her to be there for Booth. A voice that whispered about hope, patience and all the good things that will happen eventually. A feeling that was full of utter conviction that sometime it would be worth it, sometime they could be happy again.

Together.

Rainbows... as a child she had refused to accept that the light could come out of the back of a raindrop, had believed in something magical at the end of the colored stripes. As an adult she had learned the truth, and the magic had vanished. Sitting alone on the bench she had always used to share, Brennan felt as if she was looking for something like a land at the end of the rainbow again.

It didn't make sense... but it felt magical.

-BONES-

He hadn't forgotten it.

Nothing.

Not the pale blue of her eyes, not the despair on her face, not the warmth of her hand.

One year ago Booth had left his partner and his life as a broken man. Today he was broken again, for a different reason or the same, he couldn't even tell, and it didn't really matter. Ever since Hannah had left a week ago, he had been miserable and hurt, and the new feeling of loss had ripped open a wound that had been barely healed.

He didn't want to go there again, but Seeley Booth had always been a man to stand by his words. _At the reflecting pool. Right by the coffee cart. One year from today._ He didn't even know if she would be there, had no idea what he should say to her.

What can you say when too many things had already stayed unspoken? How do you greet the woman who used to be everything?

Despite the nagging questions and the confusing feeling of darkness, Booth followed an almost magnetic impulse and found himself in the park. Somehow, he had to be there. Maybe he was lucky, maybe she wouldn't come...

Turning around the corner, his feet stopped along with his heart, as he saw the woman on the bench. She wore her usual coat, the burgundy one, and reflections of the sun were playing in her dark hair. Her face looked calm, but the sadness in her features almost tore him apart.

If the heart was nothing than a muscle full of blood, his own one was bleeding right now. Bleeding for her, bleeding for him, bleeding for them.

Temperance Brennan was beautiful, so beautiful that it almost hurt, and she was sitting there because of him. Because of a promise they had shared, but he wasn't the man anymore she had given it to. He was weaker than she had ever been, and suddenly Booth knew that he couldn't talk to her right now. He couldn't look into the universe of her eyes, couldn't smell the scent he knew so well.

He loved her, he loved her so much, and the feeling he had tried to forget broke free with devastating force. Booth took her all in, and he knew that he would never be free. His heart was beating for her, and this was nothing he could move away from.

A week ago she had told him that there would always be a third option for them, and Booth realized that – regardless of how hard he fought it – it had been nothing but the truth. Still, he wasn't ready. Right now there was nothing left he could give.

When somebody is so badly injured that healing needs all the energy left in the battered body, the person is often put into an artificial coma – and that's exactly what Booth did with his heart, as he turned around and walked away.

Away from the sun, away from the pain, away from her.

To be continued...


	25. Seventh Year: The R in Regret

The Seventh Year: The R in Regret

"_Sometimes that makes it hurt more. What makes us human, Bones, is that we can feel compassion and regret."_

The word "regret" originates from the French word "regreter" and means "to weep over again". Temperance Brennan wasn't an etymologist, but she knew a thing or two about regrets. And not only about the word itself.

A few months ago she had been sitting in his partner's car, and even though he had only been a few inches away, the distance had been bigger. He had shut her out, had built himself another life, and she had been lonely, so lonely. Regrets had overwhelmed her; regrets that she had made him feel what she was feeling now, regrets that she had given up her own shot at happiness. For the right reasons who had turned out so wrong.

She had vowed to herself not to have regrets anymore, but sometimes, sometimes it's not your choice, sometimes all you can do is wait. And so she waited – for him to look at her again, for him to recognize her changes.

Regrets... it's so much better to have regrets because of something you have done than mourn something you have never even tried.

When they had been riding in his car earlier today and Booth had told her about the hurt of a grown-up man and about regrets being human, she had known that he hadn't only been talking about the current case, that he had been referring to something bigger, something more general. For a brief moment she could feel the old ache like a pang in her chest, but then the pain subsided.

She wasn't that woman anymore. Step by tiny little step she had revealed herself to him – from her imperviousness to her hopes and wishes.

Apologize... The word derivates from the ancient Greek "apologia" which means "speaking in defense". She had tried that one over and over again. She had done it during that night on the steps of the Hoover Building, she had done it before they departed to Maluku and Afghanistan. She had defended her decision in front of him and in front of herself. I hadn't worked.

Contrite. Feeling bad for making someone else feel bad. She had never admitted that to Booth.

Sipping her beer next to him at the Founding Fathers, Brennan mused about words and their meanings. The atmosphere was light and easy, his company as natural as breathing. They had healed, and she was afraid to rip open old scars, but suddenly the urge was overwhelming.

"Booth, there is something else I feel contrite about."

"Socks, coffee, Bones, I'm not sure I can take more of your honesty tonight," he joked, but this time she didn't laugh.

"I feel contrite about rejecting you. I feel contrite that you had to be under the impression that my feelings for you were less strong than your feelings for me. I feel contrite that I had a flaw in my logic."

Her words caught him unguardedly, but they didn't cut into his soul anymore.

"Which flaw?"

"I assumed that I wasn't strong enough to give you what you needed, and that, eventually, you would leave because of this failure of mine. I didn't take into consideration that _not_ trying could drive you away as well. Plus, my assumption that you always have to be strong had been wrong. I've learned that sometimes being weak is okay, even necessary to grow stronger. I feel contrite about that."

He looked at her calmly for a while.

"_I_ feel contrite that I didn't listen to you better that night. I... wanted you just the way you were, not stronger or different. Just you."

She gave him a tiny smile.

"I understand that now."

"No more regrets? After all, we didn't break."

"But we came close, Booth. I'm not stupid, I know that I almost lost you. You stopped visiting the lab, you barely talked to me anymore. I cannot lose you, you know? You are too important."

Taking a sip of his own beer gave him a moment to think about his answer.

"You're wrong, Temperance. You assume that I just walked away from you easily when in truth I fought every single day not to call you, not to think about you. I cannot lose you, either. At least not without breaking. Being with you was sometimes hard and painful, but being without you..." He shook his head. "That's just not me."

"And now?"

A smile tugged at his lips on a will of its own.

"Now I wake up every single morning looking forward to seeing you."

Following a spontaneous impulse, she put her head on his shoulder, rubbing her cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt.

"I feel close to you."

Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he squeezed her briefly.

"You _are_ close to me."

Her nose wrinkled.

"Not only literally speaking, Booth."

He chuckled.

"I know, Bones."

Taking a deep breath, he released her again.

"Would you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"It's kind of big."

"I would do anything for you, Booth," she stated, her eyes shining with honesty.

"Would you come home with me tonight? Sleep next to me and... hold me? Just hold me?"

Holding his breath, he waited for her answer. Truth be told, he didn't really know where this request came from, but suddenly he yearned for the comfort of her arms. Maybe it was because being around her didn't hurt anymore, maybe he needed to test her commitment to him, maybe he just wanted to hold her as well – Booth didn't know why, but he didn't really care that much.

"Yes," she simply said.

"Just 'yes'?"

Nodding, she emptied her beer bottle.

"I want to hold you."

-BONES-

His apartment was dark and smelled like a bigger version of himself. Neither of them spoke as they walked into his bedroom in the dim night light that shone in through the window. Rummaging around in his closet, Booth handed her one of his old shirts. It was big and would cover her modestly. In his bathroom she found fresh towels and an unused toothbrush.

She took her time to change and get ready for the night. The fabric of his shirt hugging her bare chest felt strangely good, and when she caught her own reflection in the mirror, Brennan had to smile. She knew what he had asked for, and a year ago it would have scared her to death.

Intimacy.

You don't just sleep with someone. Sex can happen, and sometimes sharing a bed is convenient, like it had been during their undercover circus case. But just going home with someone to sleep is nothing you do unless it means something. Unless the person means something to you.

He did.

And not only 'something'. He meant everything to her.

When she came out of the bathroom, he gave her an almost shy smile before he disappeared himself. He was back before she had decided whether to go to bed or wait for him, and, taking her hand, he took the decision from her.

His sheets were cool, and goosebumps appeared on her bare legs, as she slid under the covers. Finding a comfortable position on her back, Brennan outstretched her arm, waiting for him. The he was by her side, and ever so carefully his head found a place on her chest. Her right arm curling around his shoulders, she caressed his head with her left hand.

He let go of a sigh as her long fingers run through his hair, her fingernails grazing his scalp. Unsure what to do with his right hand, Booth placed it on the soft curve of her belly.

And then the world stood still as he lay as motionless as possible, surrendering himself to her presence. Under his palm her belly was heaving with every breath she took, and with his ear over her chest, he could hear her heartbeat. She felt so soft and tiny underneath him, but her arms held him safer than he had ever been before.

Shifting her head, Brennan pressed her cheek to his forehead, never stopping the soothing motion of her caresses. Never before had she held someone like this, just because. Never before had she experienced intimacy like this, not with her former sexual partners and not even with Booth himself.

Pursing his lips, he placed a tiny little kiss on the spot just above her right breast, and she hugged him even closer. Holding him felt so right, and one more piece inside of her fell back into place. A strange rush of tenderness filled her chest, and she felt stronger than ever.

"Booth, I will always protect you," she whispered in the darkness, and he went pliant in her arms.

The line that used to be his spoken in her sweet voice touched him deeply.

"The same goes for me, Bones..."

Taking a deep breath that made his hand bobble on its place over her belly, she added,

"I will still protect you in thirty, forty, fifty years."

Suddenly his throat felt very tight, and he had to swallow hard to rein in his sentimental heart. Rolling around until he almost covered her completely with his body, he burrowed his head in the crook of her neck, hiding his touch in the curtain of silk that was her hair. Without hesitation her arms came around his back, cradling him gently.

"I cannot imagine my life without you and I don't want to," he said, his husky voice so close to her ear that she shivered.

"Don't do it, then," came her simple reply.

"I've never felt so naked before. Does this make any sense to you?"

"Yes, it does. Although this is not my field of expertise, I suppose there is more about 'making love' than sex, isn't it?"

He chuckled, wondering when she had gotten so smart.

"One day, Honey," he promised, and she brushed her lips over his head, her heart aching sweetly at the tender name.

"I know, Booth."

After all, they had set a date, made a commitment.

"We're are past the storm."

Smiling, she rolled them around until she was sprawled over him, and it was Booth holding her. In a gesture full of trust she rested her head over his thumping heart, his chest warming her, and somehow the light burden of her weight on top of him made it even more real.

She was his.

He had always trusted her with his life, but in this night-covered moment full of honesty and possibilities, he allowed himself to trust her with his heart.

She had been pain, despair and light for him. Shared meals, endless car rides, countless drinks. From "A" like the alabaster tone of her skin over "H" like heart-crushing, the word she had invented because it was anatomically correct, to "R" like the regrets that had darkened their togetherness for so long – a dictionary wasn't thick enough to content all the words he associated with her.

No word could describe her beauty nor the sound of her laughter, no word was big enough to grasp the roller coaster that had been their relationship. No word was as pure as the feelings he had for her.

However, tonight they had come full circle with one of them. Regret. From this day on their passage under "R" would be empty because they had erased it.

Now and forever.

And the rest... the rest was only consummation. Consummation with "C" passing eternity with "E" leading to "L" like love.

They had changed, were changing, would change. Just like their words.

As for tonight... they had given "S" like sleep a new meaning. And in the new morning he didn't have to look forward to meeting her because when he opened his eyes, her sleeping face was the first thing he saw.

Beautiful with "B".

To be continued...


	26. Ninth Year: A Feeling of Strength

The Ninth Year: A Feeling of Strength

"_It was like a spell; it was bound that my wish would come true. __"_

"Stop shifting."

"That's not me, that's the boat."

"However, it feels unpleasantly strange."

"Relax, it's just the lake, the boat, you and me."

"That's not completely true, there is an unknown number of fishes and microorganisms in the water, plus I can hear at least two birds."

"You really know how to ruin the spell, Babe."

"The spell?"

"Yeah – the spell of a lazy and sunny day with someone you love. Can you believe that we're really on holiday?"

"There are no cell phones, no computers, and we're lying in a boat in the middle of a lake. Yes, I think I can believe it."

"Sometimes you're wicked literal."

"Sometimes you're overly sentimental," she stated, but the bright smile on her face betrayed her harsh words. Yes, sometimes he was behaving like a sentimental fool, but somehow it felt appropriate.

It was a wonderful early summer day, the sun was tickling their faces, and she was entangled with her partner, her head resting on his firm shoulder. The air was quiet except for the chirping of birds and the babbling of water. The tiny wooden boat rocked them gently, adding to the safety of his embrace, and she felt almost weightless.

They've come a long way, and even though Brennan had gotten used to everything a romantic relationship implied, every now and then she caught her reflection in the mirror and had to smile. Every now and then she awoke early in the morning, watching his sleeping face, and irrational bliss filled her heart.

She was in love, and not only the secret, hopeless in-denial-kind-of love, but rather a love that consisted of shared meals, goodnight kisses, passion and satisfaction. Real love. The kind of love that was woven into every minute of her life and every beat of her heart.

The kind of love that can be lived.

Brennan had learned it in a hard school, and now that she finally had it, she couldn't take it for granted. Of course, they had arguments, but even when Booth was mad at her, she didn't doubt his devotion or their decision to be together.

She had learned that as well.

Somehow, he had never lost faith in her – at least never for long – and it had made her strong; strong enough to finally act on her feelings. Brennan never wanted to go back because loving Booth, touching him whenever she wanted, hugging and being hugged had become as essential as sleep and eat and work.

She felt his lips brushing her forehead and had to smile. Seeley Booth was a very tactile person. She had always assumed it because of the way his hand used to linger on the small of her back. These days he was touching more than only her back, and sometimes, when he reached out to take her hand or when he brushed a curl out of her face in a quick, momentary gesture, Brennan wondered if he even realized it.

Not that she would complain, no, she reveled in every little sign of affection and she was particularly fond of the subconscious ones because they were the strongest evidence of their bond.

A month ago he had been out of town for a seminar, and one evening while doing the laundry, Brennan had found herself holding one of his gym shirts in her hand. It had called out to her, and, her nose buried in the soft fabric, his scent had caused deep dizziness and longing inside of her. Sometimes the power he had over her body was ridiculous, scary even.

It was because of the familiarity, she assumed. For all her life, Temperance Brennan had wanted to _know_. Therefore she had studied, she had attended lectures, achieved three doctorates. Just the same accuracy she had applied on learning Booth. And now every cell in her body was familiar with him. Connected.

Sighing happily, she snuggled deeper into his side.

"Maybe I'm too literal to keep my own sentimentality under control," she finally admitted.

His head turned until his nose touched her cheek, and she could spot the cocky grin on his face.

"I knew you'd like it."

"Yes, I have to admit, I like just being with you."

His lips were as warm as the sunshine.

"I'm proud of you."

"Just because?"

"Remember when we first met?"

How could she ever forget?

"You couldn't grasp the concept of holidays at all. You always needed something to do, a purpose."

She went silent for a while.

"There were a lot of things I couldn't grasp when we first met."

"Imperviousness," he whispered, and she shivered.

"You remember it..."

"Of course I do. It's been two years since we've had that talk. Two years since the blizzard. The things you said that night... you've touched me deeply, Temperance."

"I've been so scared."

"You didn't look scared."

"It wasn't a 'scared' that make you look scared, it was... I don't know, you have been so hurt, so broken. I was worried about you. That you wouldn't recover, that I had really lost you. That year I was just done pretending, but you had Hannah. Then Hannah was gone, and you were so angry..."

Remembering this time of his life, Booth's eyes clouded for an instant.

"That night, Booth, was the first time we had _really_ talked in a year."

"I remember the hope."

"I know! I felt it as well and I wanted to show you how much you meant to me... without scaring you away."

"You have risked a lot to be with me."

Burying her nose in his neck, she inhaled deeply, enjoying the oh-so-familiar scent.

"Not really, Booth. Losing you has always been the biggest risk, but then I had already lost you... nothing could have been worse. Suddenly _being_ with you didn't seem to be so dangerous anymore."

"I was scared you would change your mind. I don't know if I could have dealt with that. Therefore I kept the distance."

"But I didn't go away," she smiled.

"No, you stayed."

"We set a date."

"One of many."

"I don't know... _oh_... the coffee cart?"

"Yes," he answered softly.

"I... I've been there."

"I know. I've seen you."

Her eyes went wide.

"But you didn't come!"

"I did. It was just after Hannah had left, and I was trying not to feel. I was trying so hard. Then I saw you sitting there. You were so beautiful, and I loved you so much that it hurt. I... I had to leave. It was too much. I wasn't ready to lose myself in you."

"Oh, Booth..."

Her pale blue eyes were shimmering with crystal tears, and Booth almost crushed her with the desperate force of his embrace, as both of them took a trip down memory lane.

"You never told me."

"It was sad. I didn't want to be sad anymore."

"Thanks for telling me now," she whispered. "It feels good to know that I haven't been alone that day."

"You have never been alone, Honey, never. Not when you were crying in my car during the case with the deceased doctor, not when you were sitting on that bench. All I've ever wanted was being with you, but sometimes you have to wait for the right moment. Or the next one."

"Is it how you thought it would be?"

It wasn't the first time that she asked him that question, but every once in a while she needed to hear his answer again. Knowing her deepest fears, he cupped her rosy cheek with his palm and gave her a heart-warming smile.

"No, it is better. I never thought you would wear my shirts at night or let me eat cookie dough from your belly."

She chuckled.

"The dough thing really made a big impression on you."

"You were just so yummy. I love you, Temperance Brennan, with or without dough. Don't doubt for a second that you make me incredibly happy."

"I really want that."

"Not as much as I want you to be happy."

"Are we really having this discussion again?"

"Okay, we're both happy."

"I have to confess that I miss you when you spend the night in your apartment."

"All the three times it has happened in the last months?" he joked, but she stayed serious.

"I have trouble falling asleep without you."

"You've gotten used to me, Baby. I don't like sleeping without you, either."

"Even though I steel your blanket, as you never fail to point out?"

"Ah, you are allowed to steal my blanket any time. I can always use you as a blanket."

"Booth," gnawing her lower lip, she braced on her elbow to look at him fully. "Would you like to... move in with me? Live with me?"

Holding his breath, Booth lay very still as he felt the waves of the lake and her love carrying him. They had taken it slow – baby steps – and he had never pushed her to give more than she had been ready to give. When they had agreed that it was time to move on _together_, he had courted her with considerateness, and when he had made love to her for the first time, part of him had been prepared for her to freak out. She never had, and whenever he opened his arms for her, hers were open; whenever he opened his heart, hers was open as well.

His reverent silence unsettled her, and she poked his ribcage with her forefinger, her brow furrowed.

"Say something, please..."

Then a wind gust tousled her hair, and when she had pushed the strands out of her face, he was beaming at her with unadulterated delight.

"You wanna live with me?"

She nodded, a tentative smile appearing on her face.

"With me, my socks on the floor and my full-fat food in your fridge?"

Another nod, but this time her smile had gotten brighter.

"Yeah!"

His fist in the air, he let go of a triumphant yell, and she regarded him with a stunned expression on her face.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'?"

"Yeah!"

Grabbing her, he rolled her around and showered her face with countless little kisses, all the while murmuring, "Yes, yes, yes." Smiling into his lips, she let his joy be her own.

"Hell, yes, I wanna live with you. I never thought you would ask me, though."

Her eyes sparkled in confusion.

"Why not?"

He shrugged.

"All those years... Sometimes being with you still feels like a dream. After all, you're the mighty Temperance Brennan."

Shaking her head, she grazed his strong jawline with her fingertips.

"No, I'm your Bones."

"Oh, Bones... hey?"

"Hmm?"

"We're on vacation!"

"I haven't forgotten."

The sun resumed her walk over the firmament, and when the wind got stronger, he paddled them back to their little pier. Arm in arm they wandered to the secluded hut which was their accommodation, the soft grass tickling her bare soles. He carried her the last few feet, and, as always, she protested and tried to kick him. Not very hard, though, because she had learned to give in to his alpha-male-tendencies every once in a while just like he had learned to let her walk on her own whenever she truly wanted it.

She had learned that she could lean on him without being weak; he had learned that he could let her fly from time to time because she would always come back.

It was a strange, almost fragile feeling of strength, but two years after the change in the game they had learned to accept that it would last.

After all, they were Booth and Brennan; people had always said their names on a single breath, and this new reality they had built around themselves wasn't really foreign or different, it was just as whole as it should always have been.

As the sun sank into the lake, they shared a simple vegetable soup she had prepared – one has to eat – they washed the dishes side by side, and when he pulled her into his arms, his stomach felt warm and his hands slippery from the soap. She tasted like spring, nature and everything he knew, and, later, when their bodies were uncovered and he was moving above her, it was just another shade of strength and fragility.

The delicate bones of her phalanges digging into the strong muscles on his back, the tiny sounds she made mingling with his deeper growls.

He knew this woman better than anything or anyone else, and she wasn't only part of his life, she was it. And from now on it would be his and her name next to the doorbell and a single key which would mean home, which would mean her.

To be continued...

_Sorry, that was overly sentimental and mushy. _

_(Sentimental author starts:) Have I ever mentioned that I have been hopelessly and desperately in love for three years? I was the one who _knew_. Well, that has been almost ten years ago, and now we're living together, and every morning I wake up to the love on his face. I know the darkness, I know the despair; I've been there. So, please, tolerate a little bit of mushiness every once in a while because love is just so beautiful... (Sentimental author ends.)_


	27. Seventh Year: The Things They Found

_Okay, this one stretches reality a lot, but I couldn't resist. It might qualify as M..._

The Seventh Year: The Things They Found

"_Are you sleeping together?__"_

"Although, I have to admit it _is_ kind of impressing that the son of a bitch found your medal."

Glancing at the big round treasure dangling from her neck, Brennan smiled with that kind of innocent glee which always, always tugged right at his heartstrings. It never failed to amaze him how a woman so grown-up and independent could look so childlike, so cute at the same time.

"Did you get the article back as well?"

Knowing his partner, Booth was fully aware that the truly precious thing hadn't been the old medal, and his voice had taken on a low, almost intimate level.

"Yes," she smiled shyly and bowed her head.

He reached out to squeeze her hand, and, as always, his skin tingled at the contact with hers.

"I'm glad."

Lifting her head, she searched his gaze with big blue openness.

"Isn't it utterly stupid?"

"No, Bones," he shook his head, "it's human. It's physical evidence of a moment you remember very fondly. Still, I don't like him."

"Come on, Booth, aren't you the one who always tells me how important it is to bury old conflicts?"

"I hate it when you use my own logic on me."

"That doesn't make any sense..."

Their banter followed them, as he fished a few notes out of his pocket, as his palm found the small of her back to guide her out of the bar. The street greeted them with comfortable darkness, and even though it wasn't really cold, she shivered slightly. Noticing it, Booth rubbed her back in soft circles, but the shivers only increased.

"You cold?"

No, Brennan wasn't cold, on the contrary, it was in fact his touch that evoked pleasant warmth in her body. Off lately, his little touches felt less innocent than usual, but despite her belief in radical honesty, Brennan found it wise not to share that piece of information with her partner. So she just shrugged and left it to him to interpret the gesture – a move that might not have been the wisest because his arm slipped fully around her waist, as he tugged her into his side, into his warmth.

A flame that had been flickering in the wind that was their relationship started to burn, as she was pulled into the hard softness of his body, and she inhaled deeply as his unique scent invaded her senses. Well, technically, it was only one sense, her olfactory one, but you wouldn't have been able to tell that from the way her whole body reacted to his proximity.

Her partner was a very attractive man, Brennan had always known it, and his overwhelming masculinity had touched her right from the start. She had been able to deal with it, but ever since she had allowed herself to let her feelings reign, the emotional component added to his physical assets was more than disturbing.

And this was even aggravated by the fact that her last sexual encounter... had been a while. Truth be told, "a while" wasn't even the right word anymore...

Booth cast a sideways glance at his uncharacteristically silent partner. The black top she wore allowed him a good view into her cleavage, and even though he tried very hard not to peak, it was quite difficult to resist temptation when her milky-white skin was teasing him like that. Her chest heaved under her breaths, and for the first time that night he wondered if she had dressed up for him. She hadn't worn that black thing earlier today, and it was more revealing that her usual clothes. Not that he would complain...

"You look nice," he finally said without thinking, and somehow it was okay. Only a few months ago he had carefully chosen every word that had left his lips when it concerned her, and it felt good to speak freely again. Without fear that her eyes might cloud, without angst that her reply would punch his bruised heart.

He felt good again, whole, and when his heart made itself felt today, it was in a pleasant way. Because of a smile she had given him, because of the pearling sound of her laughter, because he spent time with her, and there was no need to scrutinize it.

"Thank you," she smiled, looking at the shirt she had chosen for him. It had felt kind of odd to stand in front of her closet, debating what to wear for drinks with Booth, but she wanted to look attractive for him. That was new as well.

"Booth... when you told Walter that he could have 'a shot'..."

He cut her off.

"Yeah, sorry about that one."

"Did you believe it?"

Brennan was almost positive that he hadn't, but certainty like that didn't come to her naturally, and she needed to hear it in his voice. He hesitated only a heartbeat, but it was enough to make her flinch inwardly.

"Nah. You have more style."

"That's the only reason?"

It wasn't enough for her, nowhere near enough.

He shrugged, and his hold on her loosened a bit.

"No, there are more reasons why I believe that he hadn't had a snowball's chance in hell, but you can be kind of unpredictable when it comes to men."

Now she flinched for real, and Booth realized too late that he had hurt her, when she freed herself out of his arms.

"Hey, sor-"

"No, 'sorry' isn't acceptable this time. I have made mistakes. Jared. Andrew... I know that I did wrong, Booth. But after all that has happened, do you really still believe that I would bed someone you hate? Do you even know when I had sex the last time?"

Her eyes bore into his, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Hacker?"

"No, I didn't sleep with him."

"Oh..."

The word fell silently from his lips as he remembered the star-crossed night in front of the Hoover Building and the fierce hugs and kisses later in his car.

"Me?" he dared to whisper.

They hadn't spoken about that night ever again, neither of them had been willing to relive the pain, the desperation. She nodded wordlessly and crossed her arms in front of her chest in an age-old gesture of self-protection. All the times he had buried himself in blonde-curled simplicity, all the times he had tried to erase the memory of another gracious body clinging to his, of a glimpse of utter perfection – all those times Brennan had chosen to remember.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his heart beating wildly in his throat.

"My system of value has changed, Booth. You have changed it. Therefore, no Walter in the world could ever have _a shot_ again. It hurts that you might have thought otherwise."

Reaching out a tentative hand, he placed it on her arm.

"Self-protection, Bones," he whispered.

Her eyes were dark with agony and sadness, as she held his gaze like spellbound.

"You don't have to protect yourself from me anymore, Booth. I will never ever hurt you again."

"I do trust you. Maybe I just needed to hear you saying it," he admitted.

"We're solid, then?" she asked, her lips trembling slightly.

His face softened into a smile.

"We are. Hug?"

Nodding, she opened her arms, and he drew her into his embrace. Her silky hair pressed to his smooth cheek, the muscles in his bare arms hard and reassuring, as he held her with strength and tenderness, something that wasn't a contradiction when it came to him. His hands roamed over her back, playing with the hem of her shirt, and when his fingers slid under it, grazing the uncovered skin he found there, she sucked in a breath.

"Really that long, Babe?" he asked on a whisper, the endearment slipping from his lips unnoticedly. She nodded, her face pressed into the safety of his shoulder.

He inhaled a shuddered breath, as he pulled her even closer to him. Weakness invaded her body, trailing pure heat; heat that centered between her legs.

His hand traveled up her bare back, tracing her spine until he met her bra. Very gently, he followed the line of the garment until he could graze the underside of her full breast with his thumb. A muffled moan left her lips, and he spanned her slender waist with his whole palm, her hot skin like soft velvet underneath his callous fingers.

"Oh, Bones," he whispered, as she curled herself into his arms. "Know that I could never forget you, regardless of how hard I tried. You came always back to me in my dreams. Your soft skin. Silky hair. Your big blue eyes. The way you tasted..."

She whimpered, as he nudged her legs with his knee, as is own leg slid between her thighs, adding friction to her most sensitive parts. Inhaling deeply, Brennan wrapped her arms tighter around his waist, and then he shifted, and she could feel something hard, something hot pressing into the juncture of her legs.

"Oh, Booth," she mumbled into his shoulder, as her center was throbbing with emptiness.

The hot puff of his breath caressed her auricle, followed by the moist touch of his tongue, and she shivered almost violently. His hand that wasn't spanning her waist was playing with the soft hair on her nape, grazing her tender skin with his fingernails, evoking goosebumps.

"You are the standard, Bones," he repeated his words spoken more than a year ago, but tonight there was no trace of sadness mingled with them, only the beauty of a simple truth.

He moved his leg between her thighs in a tiny but steady rhythm, the rough fabric of their trousers adding to the pleasant friction he was creating, and maybe it was the fact that it had been way too long, maybe it was just him, but suddenly Brennan was caught off guard when something sweet and mighty exploded low in her belly.

She gasped, as she could see stars that had nothing to do with the night, and he lowered his lips to her neck, sucking the delicate skin he found there. His heart was beating loudly, as he was enraptured by the sight of her, by the utmost trust she was displaying.

After her tremors had subsided, Brennan hung limp and heavy in his arms, not brave enough to lift her head. Booth rocked her gently, kissing her soft hair almost reverently, as he was filled by a heartwarming mix of pride and devotion.

"It's okay," he murmured into her tresses, and finally she raised her head.

Her eyes were bright, her cheeks possessed a rosy flush, and she bit her lips as if she didn't know what to say.

Lifting his hand, he smoothed her lips with his thumb in a caress that was as sweet as a kiss.

"Okay?" he asked, and she nodded weakly.

"I apologize," she finally uttered, but he just laughed, pulling her into his embrace anew.

"No, Bones, never. Thank you," he added on a whisper, "that was... beautiful."

"Beautiful..." she repeated, and her confusion cleared somehow. Part of her felt embarrassed, mortified even, but there was another part as well, and it was purring like a content kitten right now. A part which told her that it really was okay, that they were okay.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

Stepping out of his embrace, she tilted her head and gave him an almost smug grin.

"Less tense."

A smile appeared on his face, and then he was laughing at her pure adorableness. It didn't take long until his laughter triggered her own, and soon they were both standing on the empty street, holding their bellies. When the giggles subsided, he just looked at her slightly disheveled form for a few more moments, taking in her beauty and so much more.

Finally he offered his hand to her.

"Shall I take you home?"

Accepting his hand, she curled her fingers around his without thinking about it and followed him to his car.

"That would be nice."

"Bones?"

"Yes?"

"I made you come," he whispered almost in awe.

She slapped him unceremoniously, as a deep pink blush covered her cheeks.

"Booth!"

He laughed and bumped her with his hip.

"Suddenly you don't wanna talk about sex anymore?"

Shaking her head, she pressed her lips firmly shut. He just _had to_ tease her.

"A little bit prudish today?"

Stopping mid-track, she spun him around, and her damp lips were close to his ear, as she breathed,

"I could feel your hard cock, Booth. Shall I tell you that I fantasize about it? That I wanna lick it? Rub it?"

Swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in his mouth, Booth watched her with wide, dark eyes. Eventually he recovered his voice, and blinked once, twice before he shook his head.

"Truce?"

"Truce."

After all, they were equal. Had always been. In Temperance Brennan, Seeley Booth had found his perfect match. And vice versa.

Tonight she had found something in his arms, and he had found something in her shivers. Another answer. One more step.

To be continued...


	28. Seventh Year: Another Kind of Silence

_Very short, very Brennan-centric._

The Seventh Year: Another Kind of Silence

"_I assure you if I knew to convey how I feel, I would. It seems to make other people's lives much easier. __"_

It's not as if she didn't care.

Because she did.

Actually, it felt as if something sharp was piercing her insides.

Other people might say "heart".

It's just that... there was a wall between her inner feelings and her outer appearance, a wall so much thicker than muscles and epidermis alone. As if she lacked some transmitters that were necessary to express said feelings.

It hadn't always been like this. Not always...

But like she had told that poor little girl, it's hard to hold onto the happy memories when every day, every waking hour only reminds you of what you once had, what was lost.

Happiness is a risk and life itself the greatest challenge.

Temperance Brennan had always been different somehow. Smarter. More literal. Eager to learn. She had already been a scientist when her big child eyes had focused on her own chubby hand touching an ice cube, had focused on the cold droplets gathering around her fingertips. Without knowing a thing about density or aggregate states, she had somehow understood that the cube and the water were one thing.

The scientist had always been there, but it hadn't been until later that this part of her had taken control. It was only logical, she assumed, that her lost little teenage mind had sought refuge in the sole place were emotions weren't asked for, unwanted even.

What she hadn't realized was that, step by tiny step, the thing that protected her had disabled her as well. Sometimes she felt like a little island drifting between others – only that the other islands formed a pattern, belonged to each other while she was... disconnected somehow.

Well, that wasn't completely true anymore because over the years bridges had been built, bridges that had encouraged her to make her own. Angela was close, and even though Brennan couldn't understand her best friend all the time, there was a lingering feeling of belonging.

Then there was Booth. Sometimes it seemed as if he was a ferry, constantly commuting between her little island and the mainland. Providing a connection.

A few years ago she wouldn't have cared about Sweets' or Mr. Vaziri's opinion, but today... she wasn't impervious anymore. She could identify the mixture of disappointment and judgment that had clouded their faces, and it hurt her.

Because she did care. She just didn't know how to show it.

When it came to people and their emotions, she struggled. Every word that left her mouth felt like a gamble, and Brennan could never be sure if she wouldn't say something that might sound offensive or inappropriate to someone else. Nevertheless, she kept on trying. She had offered so many pieces of herself over the years that they could be used as a weapon, a weapon sharp enough to stab her.

Metaphorically speaking, of course, it was all metaphorically speaking, and that was the biggest problem. Literal she could do. Metaphorical on the other hand... It was a minefield full of possible misunderstandings and false interpretations.

From a certain point of view, Brennan herself was as deaf-mute as Amy/Samantha – only that her, Brennan's, inability to communicate didn't have a physical reason. That didn't make it less severe, though. Sometimes, when she couldn't understand the people around her, it felt as if they were actually speaking a foreign language.

The stuffed animal was one example. It hadn't even crossed her mind that Booth could have been talking about a cute plush rabbit – or a purple elephant maybe – only the frozen face of Bessy, her foster family's _real_ stuffed dog, had come back to haunt her.

Two steps forward one step back.

Having been mistaken about his intentions in the first place was a step back – after all, why should Booth ever suggest such a creepy present for a baby? However, admitting her childhood fears so willingly was something she wouldn't have done a few years ago. One step forward. And in the end she had solved the riddle all by herself, had understood what he had been talking about. Another step. And the baby would get its stuffed toy.

He didn't seem to judge her anymore. Booth used to be like all the others, had spoken for her, corrected her. Sometimes it had actually helped her to undo a wrong, but every now and then it had hurt.

_I'm not as cold as everyone assumes. – Hey, we know that._

An island, its ferry, the mainland. Two more steps forward. None back so far.

Reading Booth had always been easier, even though there had been misunderstandings every now and then. Some little, others graver. However, he had never left her, and sometimes, when he was looking at her like only he had ever done, Brennan _understood_ him; understood him on a level that went way deeper than words ever could.

It was a moment like this when they were walking through the gardens of the Jeffersonian in the bright sunlight. Brennan had never been particularly fond of symbolic meanings, but somehow it fit that the sun was shining, that sprouting green was surrounding them. It was life, and for once it had won over death.

They had been able to give hope, not only to that silent girl but to her parents as well, and just the same hope was echoing in their own hearts.

Seeley Booth was proud of his partner. He knew her passion, he had seen her soul. She cared deeply, and to him it didn't come as a surprise. Not anymore. But during the last days she had bared herself to others as well, had revealed fragments of a bigger truth. A vulnerable child and a strong woman, both living in that beautiful person that was his partner. His friend. And so much more.

Something inside of him was gravitating towards her, and he didn't need to touch her to feel their connection. He didn't need to shift closer in order to separate the scent of the roses in the garden from the trace of rose shampoo that was lingering in her hair. He didn't need to tell her how proud he was, how much her caring meant to him.

All it took... was one glance. He gave it to her, and an unguarded smile was his answer.

She understood.

Because she cared.

And when they resumed their walk, when the sun followed them, he was filled with peace. Brennan was stumbling rather awkwardly next to him – 'She's such a woman sometimes,' he thought, as he took in her high heels on the grass with an amused smile – and eventually he reached out his hand to her. She accepted his support gratefully, and when she linked arms with her partner, when her steps became easier because of him next to her, the physical contact didn't make their connection more real.

To touch someone can have a figurative meaning as well. And this one... she knew by heart.

To be continued...


End file.
